SELF-LOVE: 



OR, 



THE AFTERNOON OF SINGLE LIFE. 



A COMPANION TO 



" JEALOUSY," AND " FALSE PRIDE." 



" Ye may twine the living flowers 

"Where the living fountains glide, 
And beneath the rosy bowers 

Let the selfish man abide ; 
And the birds upon -the wing, 

And the barks upon the wave, 
Shall no sense of freedom bring, — 

All is slavery to the slave ; 
Mammon's close-link'd chains have bound him, 

Self-imposed and seldom burst ; 
Though heaven's waters gush around him, 

He would pine with earth's poor thirst." 



T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 
306 CHESTNUT STREET. 



By Exchange 
T ~ Navy 
Aug. 13.JS2S 



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vr 



Contents. 

— o 



CHAPTER L 

Prospects of Middle Age — Its Trials Acknowledged — De- 
scriptions of Melancholy — The Wish to Please — A Beauti- 
ful Demeanor — Perilous Self-Deception — The Love of 
Power — Vanity— Spiritual Disgrace — Divine Pity — Cha- 
grin traced to its Roots 26-47 



CHAPTER II. 

Extinguished Love — The Probation of Faith — Self-Centred 
Affections— The Delusiveness of Grief 48-57 



CHAPTER JJL 

The Issues of Hope — Misconstrued Lessons — Matured Con- 
victions — A Short Time Left — Many Kinds of Joy — Spirit- 
ual Revolutions — Joy part of a Christian's Duty 58-72 

CHAPTER IV. 

Modes of Action Manifold— The "Worth of Popular Truth- 
Discernment of Natural Gifts — The Use of Study — The 
Difficulty of Self- Control — Nervous Embarrassments — 

Fretting over Troubles — Learning a Defence 73-92 

(vii) 



viii 



Contents. 



CHAPTER Y. 

Pathetic Follies — Unseasonable Affections — Leaving an Old 
Home — Personal Influence — The Unremovable Strong- 
hold—Liberty 93-105 



CHAPTER YI. 

Simplicity — Cordial Planners — The Tyranny of Fashion — 
Servitude to the YTorld — Childish Excess — Gentle Reform- 
ers — Late Reconciliation to Gossip 106-128 



CHAPTER YII. 

Selfishness — An Appeal to Memory — Low Spirits in the So- 
ciety of Dolls — Treatment of Youthful Hopes — Plaintive 
Tendencies — Presumption of the Inexperienced — L'Esprit 
moqueur 129-146 

CHAPTER YIII. 

Girlish Follies — Unsettled Opinions — Restrictive Measures 
Inefficient — Docility Becoming at all Ages — Secret Causes 
of Disturbance — Good Manners 14*1-160 



CHAPTER IX. 

Sorrows of Loneliness — Sufferings from Pity — The Help 
Lookers-on may Give — Unequal Discharge of Duties — 
Yirtue in Theory — Sufferings of the Poor — Sisterhoods — 
Reformation Carried on at Home— A Substitute for Un- 
natural Systems 161-180 



CHAPTER X. 

Agreeable Manners — Consistency with Professed Belief — 
Patriotism — English Yirtue — Frivolous Anxieties — A Rea- 
son for Studying History — Advantages Seldom Combined. 181-195 



Contents. 



ix 



CHAPTER XL 

Disregard of Appearances — Right Judgment in all Things — 
Disordered Rooms — Woman's Work Neglected — Woman's 
Power — Public Service in Private Life — Beauty and Happi- 
ness — Nature's Short-Lived Gems — Beauty a Cordial — 
Gratitude of a Resigned Heart 196-216 



CHAPTER XII. 

Inattention — Reading "Without Profit — Slightness of Modern 

Literature — Self-Delusions — Dilatory Movements 2H-229 



CHAPTER XIH. 

Deedless Decisions of the Will — Consequence of Trifling 
Neglects — Little Infirmities — Unremitting Self-Command 
—Self-Knowledge— Shyness— The Inner 'Voice 230-245 



CHAPTER XIY. 

Selfishness — The Cruelty of Self-Occupied Minds — Obstacles 
to Free Communication — The Feeling of Isolation — Discou- 
raging Experience — Charity in Practice — Dealings with 
the Poor — The Giving of Admonition 246-264 



CHAPTER XV. 

Various Counsellors — Ecclesiastical Routine — The Love of 
God — Divine Fellowship — The Consolation we Neglect to 
Claim — Piety not Contrary to Light of Nature 265—219 



CHAPTER XVI. 

The Unwise Companion — The Spirit Overwhelmed — Afflicted 
but not Forsaken — Coldness about Religion — Distasteful 
Companions — Discouragement from Good Examples — 
Deadness of Feeling — Unformalized Prayers — Subjects for 
Prayer 280-299 



X 



Contents, 



CHAPTER XVII. 

Being Conformed to the Likeness of Christ — Mistaken No- 
tions of Piety — Prayer Sometimes Easier than Patience — 
Eccentricity — The Unfailing Resource 300-309 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Single and Married Life Contrasted — The False Estimates of 
Imagination — Married Life — Happiness Independent of 
Externals — Celibacy — Measuring other Natures by our 
Own — Women Conversant with Sorrow — Transitoriness of 
Present Trials 310-325 



CHAPTER XIX. 

The Triumphs of Time — Pleasures of Memory — Wholesome 
Fruits of Experience — Expectation of Bliss Delayed — A 
Prescription Offered — Diversions earnestly Recommend 
ed — Little Pleasures easily Obtained — Remorse for Ingrati- 
tute— A New Birthday 326-343 



Preface. 



It is net from any admiration of the use of modest formulas, intended 
to propitiate the reader's favor, that I now offer an apology, but because 
it is in the present instance really needed. I think that such a book 
as this will elicit some surprise and strong disapproval ; it will be said 
that, to the public, feelings so deep ought not to be confided ; that 
womanly reserve should forbid such a searching inquiry into the hearts 
of women ; that I am, in a word, too bold and too explicit. These 
accusations have been heard within my own heart and satisfactorily 
answered there long ago, or I should never have taken in hand the 
subject before us; they were answered thus: the old barriers of 
womanly reserve have been demolished more and more every year by 
works of fiction, which owe at least the greater portion of their popu- 
larity to the amazing want of shade that distinguishes them ; in these 
the feelings of women have been exposed, analysed, and, as I think 
degraded, by the pens of women. If the characters in these fictions 
were imaginary, the passion was real ; and the world of novel-readers 
can no longer think of a woman as a retiring creature who shrinks 
from notice, and would gladly keep her inner life in obscurity. This 

(ii) 



xii 



Preface. 



typo of woman's nature may never have been so common as to justify 
us in calling a more expressive turn of character unnatural and unfemi- 
nine; but, I think, no one will dispute that modesty, gentleness, and 
prudent reserve were in previous ages attributed to the received ideal 
of woman, and that in our day there is much to disturb the old- 
fashioned impression that retirement, being most favorable to her 
happiness, is by woman instinctively sought. ISTow, as I greatly 
regret this demonstrativeness, I should be the last to wish to extend 
it still further. !My desire, and my hope — perhaps unreasonably ambi- 
tious — is this : to call back to their proper objects the minds of some 
talented women, who now seem so much at a loss for their right work 
as to spend themselves in a feverish excitement, clamoring through 
the press for joys they do not find in their own lot ; or bewailing, in 
the person of an imaginary sufferer, the loss of peace which is forfeited 
by their own foibles. 

I have endeavored to convince my unmarried countrywomen that 
we are already a privileged and happy sisterhood, and that if we wish 
for any more immunities, or any wider scope, good sense will look for 
these in our own hearts and not elseivhcre : and thus I have hoped, in 
some degree, to withdraw from public inspection those feelings which 
can only be directed happily in channels of private beneficence and 
quiet zeal. IfJ in order to gain the attention my design needed, I 
have too prominently brought forward my own opinions, it has not 
been without reluctance ; and, if there was anything like a printed 
whisper possible, my notions on several delicate points should not 
have been uttered more distinctly than in a whisper. But when I 
have hesitated at giving public circulation to thoughts which seem 
more fit for the confidence of a friendly tite-d-tete, I have remembered 
with comfort thai what is individually characteristic, and therefore shy 
of notice, is but a small part of one's nature compared with the com- 



Preface/ 



xiii 



men feelings which unite the most retiring spirit to the whole race of 
mankind, and make human sympathies as invariable as human need. 

As I share in the innumerable blessings of our country's pure faith 
and perfect liberty;, I know not why I should shrink from admitting 
my cognizance of the sorrows which somewhat dim the effects of these 
national blessings, though at the same time they make them more 
dear to weakness, and more indispensable to peace. 

Besides, I am convinced that in every town or village of my country 
there are hearts whose goodness, if I knew it, would open mine to full 
confidence, and from whose criticism I should fear nothing colder than 
the kindly reproof of friends. I am not concerned with what the 
unthinking, unfeeling, or irreligious, may say of my efforts; it is 
unlikely that they will bestow upon them even their notice. 

In the following chapters I have addressed myself exclusively to 
the unmarried ; not that I suppose marriage so to affect habits of mind 
as to leave to spinsters the monopoly of some feelings, and the unshared 
burden of some kinds of grief, but because in theory married women 
are supposed to be more occupied with external cares, more taken out 
of themselves, and for the most part blessed with the superior wisdom 
of husbands able to advise and willing to console. 

Difficult questions, on which I am unable to form any opinion, I 
have wholly passed over, believing that to canvass them with an 
imperfect knowledge of their bearings is a most fruitless waste of time. 
The questions to which I allude are such as those on the feasibility 
of women applying themselves to more various and public employ- 
ments than has been usual hitherto ; those again which suggest the 
reasonableness of marrying for the sake of a livelihood, or of a home, 
when there is no pretence to more affection than is supposed to exist 
of necessity with esteem : these and kindred inquiries have of late 
been mooted with much feminine vehemence, and it is to be hoped 



xiv 



Preface. 



that they will meet with the careful attention they deserve from any 
who are in a position to answer them ; they must at least awaken a 
tender pity for all those fellow-creatures, whom they so nearly, so 
sadly concern. Though I have confined myself to subjects which are 
within reach of my observation, I trust that the silence of conscious 
ignorance will not be mistaken for the cold neglect of an indifferent 
contemporary — too much at ease to regard with sympathy the sorrows 
that might have been her own. 



SELF-LOVE; 

OB, 

THE AFTERNOON OF SINGLE LIFE. 



FRONTISPIECE. 

Like passing clouds the years go by, 
And leave me here alone to sigh, 
The world has me forgotten. 

J. YON ElCHENDORFF. 

A lady sits by a table well furnished with boohs, in 
a pretty drawing-room, complete in every comfort- 
able arrangement ; she is alone, and she is idle, though 
a book, vividly written, lies open before her ; but her 
forehead is bent down on one hand, and the other has 
fallen listlessly to her side. When she uncovers her 
eyes,— grave eyes, cold and sad in their expression, — 
they turn to the time-piece, which is quietly carrying 
on its monotonous business with a happy tick and an 
unvarying face. In five minutes it will strike three: 



16 



SELF-LOVE. 



she rises and goes to the window, looking out on a 
garden bright with the gaudy flowers of September. 

Broad sunshine on the lawn ; the mountain ash gay 
with berries ; the lime tree thickly hung with greenish 
tufts of seed ; and one of its side branches has thin and 
yellow leaves already, and a few here and there look- 
ing golden on the shady side of the tree, — the sun- 
shine passed by them many hours ago. 

How sear and sapless the chestnut tree looks out 
yonder ! The prickly fruit is the only fresh-looking 
part of its massive growth. Two little girls have put 
their dolls to sit in a tall hole at the bottom of its 
stem, while they hunt for polished brown chestnuts, 
not yet to be found, though a high wind knocked 
down several green ones last week. 

How eager and happy those children look ! Never 
mind the French grammar now ; it is safe upstairs on 
the school-room table, and many pleasant things are 
between them and to-morrow's lesson time. Hark! 
out there, beyond the trees, on the broad grass ter- 
race ;— what merry shouts ! And a light figure comes 
in sight, running forwards to pick up an arrow; the 



SELF-LOVE. 17 

mirth, of eighteen in her laugh, the glad confidence 
of a much-loved child, and a young beauty in her 
graceful movements as she returns to the group of her 
shooting companions. 

The indoors watcher moves on to another window 
in the same room, where she can see them all. They 
did but leave her an hour ago, after luncheon, and 
yet she watches them with the sad distant sort of 
curiosity that only isolated or captive people feel. 
Her sister and two brothers are there ; and a brother's 
wife, fondly admiring the skill of her eldest girl in 
archery, who listens, meanwhile, with girlish intent- 
ness to the polite speeches of a gentleman visitor, 
whose superior talents do not make him indifferent 
to beauty in any shape. 

What made the silent spectator sigh ? The tran- 
sient vision of years far behind her now. In that 
same spot she had stood, young, and handsome, and 
energetic with gladness, on certain sunny days of pre- 
vious summers, and then she was anything but alone. 
Some of those who so eagerly measured her distances, 
and ran for her arrows, were interesting, warm- 



13 



SELF-LOVE. 



hearted people. Would that bright-faced girl ever 
linger about in the torpor of dejection as she does 
now ? Oh ! these comparisons will never do : rather 
let ner find a fanciful likeness to herself among all 
those summer-ending flowers. She thinks of the lines 
of Mrs. Hemans : 

" Give the reed 
From storms a shelter, — give the drooping vine 
Something round which its tendrils may entwine, — 
Give the parch' d flower the rain-drop, — and the meed 
Of Love's kind words to woman." 

That will not do either; it is too sentimental to 
suit her case, and, besides, not true to its saddest 
peculiarities : first of all, she cannot compare herself 
with the drooping vine ; she wants tendrils rather than 
something to clasp, since brothers, and sisters, and 
friends are quite kind to her, and she is dearly loved. 

It is what she is not herself that causes her present 
despondency; not any lack in her outward life. 
And what then is she like ? According to her own 
notions, she resembles that Anchusa Plant which the 
gardener has left standing between a glowing Marvel 



SELF-LOVE. 



19 



of Peru and a spiked band of red Zinnias ; which, 
having long done its regular blossoming, now and 
then opens a few blue stars on cool mornings, but 
which is for the most part dull-looking and unsightly, { 
stretching its long prickly shoots on all sides with 
dim and shapeless luxuriance: leaning on nothing, 
attaching itself to nothing, with little lovely color, 
and no sweet scent. 

For the person I am describing is no longer young 
— she is not yet old ; she is of middle age, and just 
now she thinks this age a very dreary one. 

She turns from the window, convinced that the 

glaring brightness of these September days, and an 

almost imperceptible chill which breathes through 

their sunshine, have a peculiarly disagreeable effect 

upon her. It is true that she is not quite well ; a 

slight headache, a feeling of chilly languor makes 

# 

bodily movement irksome ; but we should fall into 
a common mistake, if we fancied that bodily indispo- 
sition caused the sadness which now pervades every 
thought. It has brought to a crisis the depressing 
influences of many past weeks, and stamped them^ 



20 



SELF-LOVE. 



upon tlie prostrate mind with, the threat of perma- 
nence ; it lias disarmed her of all the usual weapons 
against melancholy, and led her to suppose that they 
were powerless because they were not just then within 
her reach ; but not one of the sad fancies that weigh 
down her spirit was originated by the infirmity of the 
flesh, each has arisen from some sickness of heart, 
taken singly she could resist each with patient good 
sense, but when crowding into her mind altogether 
she is overpowered; even her faith in the especial 
providence of God is a little benumbed. 

Perhaps an acute doctor would venture to assure 
her that the mind began this mournful harmony of 
grief, that a more cheerful turn of thought might have 
given to the whole system a vigorous activity which 
would have braced every nerve, and prevented both 
the slight headache and the causeless languor; she 
mil not believe it, and as the interaction of mind and 
body is subject to partial investigation only, the doctor 
may still hold his opinion, undisturbed by what she 
calls facts. 

She now goes to her room ; let us follow and consider 



SELF-LOVE 



21 



lier thoughts with pitiful respect : some among us will 

easily divine them, for prayer is her usual succor every 

day about this time. To-day she reproaches herself for 

its lifeless formality. But she can command her actions 

if not her feelings, and she means to go and see a poor 

person who is ill at a short distance from the house, 

and her bonnet is put on. Ah ! those slow-moving 

eyes have found their reflection in the glass, and there 

is another pause. I know why she turns to take off 

the bonnet ; if I tell you, and you smile ironically, 

it will prove some ignorance of sorrow for which I 

might, some want of good feeling for which I cannot, 

envy you. She has seen her face looking hard, and 

cold, and dreary ; the lines time and grief have traced 

there seemed so stern, the light of the eye so quenched, 

that she thinks, " I shall do poor old Betty no good ; 

I am too heavy-hearted to speak comfortably ; I had 

better keep my gloomy looks to myself.'' Is not 

sorrow often selfish? Now the head she looked at, 

lightly sprinkled with a few grey hairs, so few that 

she still observes them as fresh arrivals, had been 

often stroked by the soft fond hand of a mother, and 
2 



22 



SELF-LOVE. 



yet at this moment slie feels as if slie had never known 
tenderness and perfect love. 

If she thought of that dead mother now, the stoni- 
ness of her mood might melt to tears ; but she goes 
down stairs with slow and heavy footsteps, consider- 
ing what she can find the heart to do. "Work ? No, 
it leaves too much scope for painful thoughts, and 
music would be no music to-day, every note would 
bring to mind jarring discords between the past and 
present. How often had that same instrument felt 
her light touch in by-gone days, and brilliantly ex- 
pressed her joyousness. Let it be silent now. Why 
not draw? Because she feels too indifferent about 
everything to make it worth while. What is the use 
of cultivating her talents? What do they avail her? 
No one takes an interest in them, or cares much for 
her success. (A " pathetic fallacy " this.) Once her 
father, and once some one else, whom both he and 
she loved rather better than he deserved, had praised 
her artistic taste ; now it is a thing only remembered 
in old portfolios and fireside annals of another time. 

Cannot any of those books in so many languages, 



SELF-LOVE. 



23 



on so many themes, speak home to her present feel- 
ings, and occupy her mind with their emphatic words ? 
Not one, at least not one of the few she has taken 
up or looked at with intent to open ; for every power 
of the mind is in abeyance, or busy accumulating all 
imaginable pretexts for sighing. 

Another five minutes gloomily spent in aimless 
emotions, and then blank time is suddenly filled 
with the joy of a little child. 

A rosy little girl, not much above four years old, 
trots in holding a small tabby kitten in a basket sweet 
with clean hay. " Auntie, look ! Uncle Herbert gave 
it to me ; he said I might bring it in to show you ; 
isn't it beautiful? You shall have it on your own 
lap, Auntie, for a few minutes." 

The heaviest heart can hardly refuse to sympathise 
with a happy child. My poor idler smiles gladly; 
the child and the kitten are together on her lap, and 
she feels some of the happiness which the little one 
meant her to share. 

I do not suppose that the rest of her day will make 
her feel so lonely as she has been during the last 



24 



SELF-LOVE. 



hour ; the spell of sorrow is often broken quite as 
unexpectedly, quite as quickly, as the spells of happi- 
ness. 

You may blame her as weak, or scorn her as a 
coward for being stricken down by imagined griefs, 
and I shall not wonder ; but I pity you for your scorn, 
and wish that you may be wiser and stronger when 
some of the many days of darkness come upon you. 

If you have attentively observed the outlines of this 
sketch, you will guess that it is the imaginary portrait 
of one who has reached the age of thirty, perhaps 
some years ago. 

To any of you, my unmarried countrywomen, who 
feel the interval of time between thirty and fifty some- 
what less interesting than the previous years, and 
yourselves a little drooping under the influence of 
" Time's dull deadening ; the world's tiring ; life's 
settled cloudy afternoon," I address myself, sincerely 
desiring your indulgence and pardon if at times my 
sympathy takes an intrusive, and now and then a dog- 
matising tone, for my purpose makes this to a degree 
inevitable. I cannot use towards you the simple tone 



SELF-LOVE. 



25 



of dictation, as I might more excusably when coun- 
selling young people; but the imperative mood, by 
avoiding the many circumlocutions of suggestive 
advice, saves time, and in these days we have none tc 
lose in needless ceremonies; suffer me, therefore, 
sometimes to dispense with them, and to speak as 
plainly to you as one spirit would to another. Be 
sure that I would not venture to touch upon ground 
so carefully guarded by the delicacy of self-love, if I 
was not urged to do so by lively compassion for sor- 
rows which seem to me quite within reach of remedy : 
sorrows that disquiet many in the stillness of English 
homes, and which (being, in a certain sense, of arti- 
ficial growth) ought not to be endured without a 
brave struggle to free ourselves from them. While I 
endeavor to promote the success of this struggle, 
think of me as a willing friend, and do not hastily 
blame me as an indiscreet one. 



26 



SELF-LOVE. 



CHAPTER I. 

44 Give Youth and Hope a parting tear- 
Look onward with a placid brow — 

Hope promised but to bring us here. 
And Reason takes the guidance now. 

One backward look — the last — the last ! 

One silent tear — for youth is past. 

" Who goes with Hope and Passion back ? 

"Who comes with me and Memory on? 
Oh, lonely looks the downward track — 

Joy's music hush'd — Hope's roses gone ! 
To Pleasure and her giddy troop 

Farewell, without a sigh or tear ! 
But heart gives way, and spirits droop, 

To think that Love may leave us here ! 
Have we no charm when youth is flown, 
Midway to death left sad and lone ?" 

K P. Willis's lines on " Thirty-five! 

The unloveliness of such a state as I have tried to 
picture in my frontispiece has been tacitly acknow- 
ledged by the main body of our writers, both in 
fiction and in graver works; but I think we rarely 
meet with any direct notice of the trials of middle 



SELF-LOVE. 



27 



age in single life * : either it is supposed that people 
of that age can fight their own battles unassisted, and 
that therefore any word of advice would be superflu- 
ous, or it is thought that these battles are too ignoble 
and obscure to interest spectators, and that to draw 
attention to them is unkindly impertinence ; or (what 
I should be very unwilling to believe) the prevalence 
of vulgar joking about "old maids," "old young 
ladies," and the like, has affected minds that ought 
to pierce through the thickest accumulation of preju- 
dice, and has prevented them from seeing how much 
real sorrow and noble endurance may be hidden under 
the quiet aspect of a "regular old maid." 

I grant that to make such an aspect agreeably 
pathetic, or even interesting to the imagination, would 
be extremely difficult, and that the attempt to do so 
might justly be ridiculed ; indeed, it is no small part 
of the trials of this lonely state that they are not redu- 

* Written more than two years ago, when the subject had 
not been brought before the public to the degree it now is ; 
when women's thoughts about women were not so often 
published without even the nomiual disguise of fiction. 



28 



SELF-LOVE. 



cible to any picturesque shape : but who that loves 
truth will stop short at appearances, and not penetrate 
as far as is possible to the real essence of a life ? 

I flatter myself that whenever we come to the 
details of the inner life, however dull and distasteful 
its exterior may be, we shall find that humanity at 
every age, arid in every class, has a strong claim upon 
our sympathies, and an intense interest for our minds, 
which no conventional habits, no frivolous jesting, or 
world-taught indifference can annul. 

We are often cruel and foolish in our careless obser- 
vations on the lives of other people ; but cruel " more 
from ignorance than will ;" from inattention to things 
as they really are, and from taking up without reflec- 
tion the tone generally used about subjects that seldom 
get more than superficial notice. 

I am far from holding the opinion that a single life 
is necessarily an unhappy life : there is too much rea- 
son to think otherwise ; but I am very desirous that 
its peculiar disadvantages should be better under- 
stood, and rescued from the exclusive service of 
would-be wit ; and I believe that those who feel them 



SELF-LOVE. 29 

most bitterly will forgive a recognition of these disad- 
vantages, if they agree with me in thinking that an 
evil, clearly defined, is far less formidable than that 
which has the painful honor of being indescribable, 

The penetrating sympathy of French writers has in 
this direction far outrun that of our own ; such, at 
least, is the conclusion I have come to while searching 
in English books for the help I could not find. Pro- 
bably, among us it has been considered a slight breach 
of decorum to put into print any admission of feelings 
which, I fear, the manners of the day too plainly 
acknowledge. It is true that within the last few 
years benevolent writers have been incited to plead 
that the existence of these feelings is a motive for 
some social reform ; but, with this exception, I think 
we must expect the public to be shocked, or at least 
disagreeably surprised, if a woman ventures to say 
that those women who are not married, nor likely to 
be so, and who therefore resign for life their share of 
the sweetest and holiest feelings in human nature, 
deserve, if only for their position, some degree of pity, 
and all the consideration of tender respect. 



SO SELF-LOVE. 

I must take from a French, authoress a poetical 
description of those sorrows which I can only speak 
of with reserve, and in plain prose. A few verses 
from Madame de Janvier's "La vieilie Fille" will 
show how tenderly she has touched upon several of 
the dumb griefs of single life : 

" Son cceur cachant a tous sa richesse inutile, 

Ses secrets battements comprimes sous sa main, 
Mysterieux parfum enferme dans l'argile, 
Beau tresor qu'on foulait en chemin. 

u Ne murmurant jamais, tant son ame etait haute, 
N'ayant que Dieu pour juge en ses muets combats, 
Et voilant son malheur comme on voile une faute, 
Souffrant de ces douleurs qui ne se plaignent pas. 

" Vivant dans ces long3 jours isolee et sans guide, 
Et voyant chacun d'eux, fatalement pareil, 
Sans espoir, sans bonheur, triste, uniforme, vide, 
Comme un morne horizon sans pluie, et sans soleil." 

Poetic descriptions, it must be remembered, are not 
expected to be free from exaggeration, and this, I 
hope, greatly overdraws the average allowance of 
melancholy in a lonely life ; yet I doubt if it will be 



SELF-LOVE. 



31 



found far from the truth on many occasions of single 
life, when the heart 

" Yeut se fuir elle-meine, et cherche autour de soi, 
Et sent T ennui de vivre entrer par ehaque pore, 
Et regarde bien loin si quelqu un Ysajne encore." 

If I remember rightly, there is in M 1/ Education 
progressive" of Madame Necker de Saussure a good 
deal of valuable advice on this subject: it is an ex- 
cellent book, to which every woman may refer with 
advantage. 

" Now comes the pain of truth, to whom 't is pain; 
folly ! for to bear all naked truths, 
And to envisage circumstance, all calm, 
That is the top of sovereignty." 

With any elderly reader, who wishes to keep her 
reason on the top of sovereignty, I may take it for 
granted that she is no longer so handsome, or so 
fresh-looking as she once was, and that she knows it; 
that she is not so interesting to a stranger's eye as 
she once was, and that she feels it. The facts are 
simple enough when thus stated; but in every-day 
life they may cause a complexity of chagrin, ill- 



32 



SELF-LOVE. 



humor, and depression. The most sensible, the 
most truly humble, are not, and do not pretend to be, 
indifferent as to their appearance; I doubt whether 
in a healthy state of mind they can be, or whether 
it is desirable, if possible, that they should be, in- 
different to it. 

The "Pfiicht der Erscheinung 3 ' (the duty of ap- 
pearance), of which Schiller speaks so earnestly,* is 
not only felt by frivolous people, or at an unsettled 
and giddy age ; and those who either ignore, or re- 
solutely deny, its claims, fight against world-wide 
experience, and, in my opinion, perilously oppose 
nature. 

It is, of course, easy to deny that there is any 
degree of duty in that which is instinctive in its 
origin, and often productive of great evils in its 
result; far easier than to keep the oft-abused ten- 
dency within its right bounds, and to confess that 
what causes misery might be useful, and lead to good, 
if properly managed: but, when truth is our object, 
can these short cuts to expediency be safe ? 

* In his essay Ueber Anmuth und Wiirde. 



SELF-LOVE. 



I may rouse the indignant contempt of my country- 
women by such, a confession of vanity ; but in honesty 
I am obliged to give partial assent to Burns, when he 
says: 

" Our last, our best, our dearest, 
That right to fluttering female hearts the nearest, 
Which even the rights of kings in low prostration 
Must humbly own — 't is dear, dear admiration." 

It is so, because by a false, but very natural, inference 
admiration is often mistaken for incipient love. And 
I know not why we should be ashamed of prizing 
with due moderation the privilege so evidently as- 
signed by our Maker to the weaker sex. Surely there 
is sufficient proof that to a certain extent every woman 
was formed for pleasing, and intended to please: 
I do not say by her beauty, for that would perhaps 
make the exceptions more striking than the rule, but 
by whatever we mean by " womanliness where this 
is wanting, when a woman is not generally agreeable, 
is she any the better for the deficiency ? or do we not 
say emphatically that it is a pity, feeling that she has 
lost a very precious prerogative ? 



34 



SELF-LOVE. 



I dwell longer than a person careful of lier dignity 
would choose to do upon a point so often passed over 
as immaterial, or brought into ridicule by perverse 
folly. "Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but 
the woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be 
praised." Those persons who have tasted the sweet- 
ness of either of these transient possessions will be 
the first to acknowledge this. Their sighs tell us 
that it is true; but will they, or any who value 
opinions more for their truth than for their apparent 
expediency, dispute the fact that a woman who fears 
the Lord, and has beauty and favor also, is much 
more praised among her fellow-creatures ? 

If any deny this because they think it is making 
too much of beauty, it may be possible to them to 
think a fraud pious ; and this may be a pious fraud, 
but a fraud I shall ever think it, and expect the 
deserved penalties of dishonesty to follow, — feebleness 
of judgment, inconsistency in conduct, and a narrow 
conditional charity. In justice to all who are ugly or 
plain, let us fairly allow that beauty has a birthright 
of great advantages, as well as of great perils. 



self-love. 



35 



But when I speak of pleasing, I would in no wise 
be understood to say that I think fine features or any 
striking comeliness of the body, essential for that pur - 
pose; for the truth of Schiller's assertion, "even the 
little beautiful, even the not beautiful, can have a 
beautiful demeanor," is remarkable in every walk 
of life ; and I suppose that what we call gracefulness 
is a far more potent charm than any perfection of 
beauty where it is lacking ; and this is not surprising, 
if it results, as I believe, from an unusual harmony of 
the spiritual and physical life. Now in the case of a 
dissatisfied " vieille fille," I presume that this harmony 
is often sadly disturbed ; for a person who feels love- 
less and unacceptable in society is not likely to be 
distinguished for her grace. I should expect in such 
a person to see those stiffly languid movements, that 
uneasy play of features, and that preoccupied expres- 
sion of eye, which betray to a keen observer the 
disquietude of a mind not full}' reconciled to its lot, 
and yet perplexed as to the cause of its discomforts ; 
unless, indeed, a far sadder sight was to be witnessed, 
where 



86 



SELF-LOVE, 



" Vanity, the last of Youth's frail peers, 
Arrn'd with a crooked crutch, and wither' d "wreath, 
G-oes, with Despair, to fight the strength of Death." 

Death which seizes on youthful charms many years 
before it can annihilate the hopes they nourished. 

The most unmitigated ugliness of feature and of 
dress is less displeasing to eye and heart than this 
piteous incongruity; for the unsuitable adornments 
still grasped with an unrelaxing determination to look 
young, can only make a shocking contrast where the 
many dints of time give clear evidence that life is half 
run out. And, as T believe that middle age has 
charms quite as certain, though less obvious than 
those of youth, I deeply regret that any one should 
entirely lose the advantages of riper years by obsti- 
nately desiring to retain those which cannot possibly 
be hers. 

I think that at this point some, whose piety would 
command my sincere respect, might wish to remind 
me that "man looketh on the outward appearance, 
but the Lord looketh on the heart:" and I would 
answer, that this does not apply to my present pur- 



SELF-LOVE. 



37 



pose, which, is to recognise the effect one human being 
has on others ; for I now speak more of social than 
of spiritual life, and I believe, with regard to this last, 
that a frank assumption that we do wish to please is 
less prejudicial to spiritual life, than struggling to 
support a theoretic standard in defiance of the almost 
invariable contradictions of experience. 

I think, also, that those who attempt this are liable 
to that kind of self-deception which makes people 
attribute their natural instinctive wishes to a religious 
motive, because they think it would be sinful to be 
actuated by anything less binding, and therefore dare 
not acknowledge the sway of impulses which are per- 
mitted, though not directly enjoined, by the Christian 
religion; and let it never be forgotten that the self- 
deceptions of religious minds are often more lamen- 
table in their consequences than the faults of the 
irreligious. 

The proportions of vanity and pride are so different 
in different minds, that one woman cannot appeal to 
another for consent on this question of the value of 
good looks, with any confidence ; all I ask you to 



38 



SELF-LOVE. 



grant is this, — that as other human beings exercise 
on average human nature an extremely powerful 
influence, making it an object of no small moment 
whether one is easily liked or disliked, — and that ^as 
beauty, or grace, or any personal advantage, disposes 
people to regard us with a favorable interest, — the 
loss or the impairing of personal advantages is to the 
sensitive nature of woman no trifling loss. 

There may be many who, quietly owning to such 
a loss, could honestly assure us that they did not find 
it painful ; that they were quite content to leave to 
younger women the enjoyments they had outlived, 
and merely to look on in the same arena where be- 
fore they had been the objects of many an admiring 
eye ; to be plain unimpressive members of society, 
instead of its fascinating attractions. If they were to 
tell me this without a tone of contempt for those 
who still hold what they resign, I should think them 
happy and truly good ; I would fain be ignorant of 
any feelings less estimable than theirs, if with these 
I could combine indulgence towards the weakness 
from which I was exempt. One shrinks from the 



SELF-LOVE. 



89 



recognition of mature vanity, as from an insult to 
human nature ; and yet, as we are no longer able to 
keep an unflawed ideal of its present dignity, it may 
be wiser to look to the causes of disgrace, than to 
pass them over in theory as impossible. Neither 
after the investigation is it enough to allow that 
vanity is despicable, but too natural and often too 
pleasant a fault to be brought under control of con- 
science. 

It is true, that power over other minds, and power 
lodged in apparent weakness, is sweet ; and the plea- 
sure of swaying the conduct and feelings of another 
by a glance, a tone, a little curl of the lip, is seducing, 
not only as a gratification of the love of power, but 
also because it satisfies a whimsical curiosity as to the 
strength of the chain of influence ; it is also fearfully 
true that the woman who does not steadily resist 
every temptation to a selfish exercise of this power 
debases herself beyond all calculation, and becomes 
far more permanently enslaved than the victims of her 
vanity, far more miserably dependent on ihdr favor 
than the weakest among them had ever been on hers. 



40 



SELF-LOVE. 



I believe that many a sin of more dreaded name 
brings less ruin on the soul than vanity, for vanity 
consumes the heart. " Les passions les plus violentes 
nous laissent quelques momens de relache, mais la 
vanity nous agite toujours."* And how can that 
heart singly desire the approbation of God, which 
throbs incessantly under the excitements of human 
applause, whether real or imagined ? How can it be 
pitiful and tender, and considerate for the happiness 
and good of its fellow-creatures, when this constant 
agitation divides its attention, embarrasses every line 
of conduct with covert motives, and confuses the 
judgment, even to infatuation, by the useless testi- 
mony of scattered perceptions? Words cannot de- 
scribe the confusion which this corrupting principle 
works within us, if allowed to gain the mastery ; but 
some of its effects we know : utter disorder and 
growing darkness ; restless desires to escape from the 
hollowness of dissimulation ; discontent and appre- 
hension, where light and peace should be ever on the 
increase. 

* Rochefoucauld. 



SELF-LOVE. 



41 



Never may it be doubted that vanity is a passion 
of exceeding strength. "When by the orderings of 
Providence all its projects have been baffled, still it 
clamors for excitement, still snatches at images of 
hope with a feverish clutch, still presses to the empty 
heart the baubles that have pierced it a hundred 
times before. It can suspend every movement of 
reason, and silence each whisper of the Holy Spirit it 
grieves. And, without going to the farthest lengths 
in this destructive road, many a heart, otherwise 
inclined aright, finds itself confessing by daily prac- 
tice — " Though the object of my desires is contempti- 
bly frivolous, is base, is assuredly fruitless, contrary 
to my holiest resolves, and unworthy even of a wish, 
yet I must attain it. I must and will once more 
attract the notice that used to gratify my self-love." 
Practice, impulse, confesses to such folly ; seldom, if 
ever, conscious self-knowledge. 

Is this an extreme case ? I trust it is : but if there 
is one such heart in my country, one person who, in 
the miserable bondage I describe, may chance to look 
at these pages, to her I must speak as pity commands 



42 



SELF-LOVE. 



Let me ask her, " If you still try thus to retain former 
influence, to satisfy your hunger for attentions (which 
in happier days of girlhood were scarcely noticed, 
because then you had not learned to put on them the 
valuation of a vain world), what is to be the end of this 
passion P It will strengthen as surely as the hin- 
drances to its gratification increase ; the struggles of a 
dying hope are more violent than any that have pre- 
ceded them ; the attractions of an unlikely admiration, 
an improbable love, are much stronger than those 
which flattered girlish vanity. The less chance you 
have of reaching a prize on which your heart is set, 
the more desperate will be the haste of your pursuit. 

Do you not see that in cherishing these vain desires 
you are feeding an insatiable destroyer, who will con- 
sume all your precious things; who, though ever 
famished, will retain strength to torture even to the 
day of your death, unless, by the omnipotence of 
Divine help, you slay or weaken it now ? 

Have mercy on yourself while there is yet time. 
It may be that as you return night after night to 
your room — the home of your truest being — you feel 



SELF-LOVE, 



43 



too sick-hearted with daily vanities to lift up even a 
sigh to the Physician of your soul : perhaps you dare 
not, because your mind still echoes with the folly of 
preceding hours ; perhaps it is weighing the value of 
a few faded compliments, recalling looks which might 
be traced to something like admiring fondness, feeling 
about among the trifling incidents of a dinner-party 
or a dance for the most languid pulse of love. What 
vapid misery ? and yet how difficult, how almost im- 
possible, to dismiss at will the habitual tenants of your 
imagination. At such times prayer may seem to you 
like a mockery of holiness, for probably each day your 
words have asked that the thoughts of your heart 
might be sanctified, and your steps upheld in the right 
and narrow way ; but do not, I beseech you, deprive 
yourself of the only remaining help. 

There is no degree of sin or folly that can make it 
wrong for us to cry out, "Lord! if thou wilt, thou 
canst make me clean I" He can — oh entreat that He 
will ; and though you have long wandered after vain 
things in a barren wilderness, do not for a moment 
doubt that he can bring you back to peace. Can a 



44 



SELF-LOVE, 



Saviour withhold His pity, His aid, His prevailing 
love, from one of His flock who humbly cries to Him 
for succor ? Even Jonah, who had not the fulness of 
promise granted to us, said, after his act of direct dis- 
obedience, " I am cast out of Thy sight, yet I will look 
again towards Thy holy temple." We can look unto 
Jesus, the propitiation for our sins, " the same yester- 
day, to-day, and for ever." The most sin-stricken 
heart may look to Him and be saved ; and, for the 
despair consequent upon a long servitude to vanity, 
there is no consolation short of His pity, and His 
entire knowledge. He alone discerns by what a com- 
plex tissue of guilt, and folly, and evil influence the 
devil ensnares us, and makes our weakness both the 
veil and the instrument of sin. And if even a fellow- 
creature — for those who are in the same danger are 
often hardest on those that fall — if a fellow-creature 
can feel such compassion for the sinner as leaves no 
room in the heart for severe condemnation, may we 
not hope that He who " knows all, yet loves us better 
than He knows," still tenderly regards our prostrate 
souls, and may yet find a way for their escape ? 



SELF-LOVE. 



45 



"The creature was made subject to vanity," says 
the inspired writer (Romans viii. ver. 20). It may be 
that our subjection to its curse is something of ap- 
pointed doom, as well as of guilty choice ; but I do 
not venture to allow myself this excuse for one con- 
scious movement of vanity, either in the heart or in 
outward action, nor for anything which I can forsake 
as being of evil tendency ; it is for that instinctive 
appetency for what is vain, and for the bondage of the 
mind to external influence, that I need and apply this 
scriptural apology. 

Let us now turn from an extreme case of folly and 
wretchedness, and consider the more common state of 
those who have left youth far behind. 

u Our bodies had their morning, have their noon, 
And shall not better ; — the next change is night ; 
But their fair larger guest, t' whom sun and moon 
Are sparks and short-lived, claims another right. 

" The noble soul by age grows lustier." * 

• • • • • • 

A comfortable creed, and in theory it must be true of 
* Donne. 



46 



SELF-LOVE. 



every soul that is going on unto perfection ; yet, prac- 
tically, there are so many retrograde movements in 
our spiritual course, even when we are on the whole 
advancing, that the light of Christian hope does not 
always shine more and more as it approaches perfect 
day. If sin does not obscure, sorrow often hides its 
lustre ; and thus it sometimes happens that the 
humble-minded woman whose chief care is to serve 
and please God suffers very considerable abatements 
of happiness from finding herself less able to please 
her fellow-creatures than she used to be. Not to men- 
tion the many more disagreeable ways in which she 
may be reminded of this, we must allow that even the 
indifference of strangers strongly contrasts with the 
general welcome given to youth and fresh looks. 
It is an accidental stroke glancing lightly over the 
outside of her peculiar trials, but, as being connected 
with these, it may wound. It may remind her that 
her heart now shivers beside extinguished fires ; that- 
thought is still busy among the wrecks of old hopes, 
looking for no new venture; and all the dust and 
rubbish of broken purposes and dead interests, dis- 



SELF-LOVE. 



47 



turbed by a transient touch, may make the atmo- 
sphere, long since purified by resignation, so heavy 
and dark that every fair prospect is for the time shut 
out. 

Her sure trust in God, and patient waiting for 
heaven's joy, will save her under these influences from 
anguish of spirit, but not always from extreme dejec- 
tion. Even from this I think that there is lifting 
up, when the advantages of middle age are well 
understood. 



48 



SELF-LOVE. 



CHAPTER II. 

"Profound the voiceless aching of the breast, 

When weary life is like a grey dull eve, 
Emptied of colour, withering and waste 

Around the prostrate soul, too weak to grieve — 
Stretch'd far below the tumult and strong cry 
Of passion — its lamenting but a sigh." 

The Music Master. A love-story by Wm. Allixgha^L 

"Le rnonde use pour nioi n'a plus rien qui me 
touche." This is the thought of many a grave woman 
when, pausing among the irksome trifles of an unin- 
teresting period, she meditates upon her position in 
life, and asks herself what are its objects, its hopes, 
its results upon earth ? and finds no answer in the 
silence of a vacant heart. 

Discipline, probation, would be a sufficient answer 
to conscience, if she asked, "Why do I live any 
longer?" but that question is at rest in a religious 
mind, and what she often looks for in vain is the 
stimulus of secondary motives, which, though utterly 



SELF-LOVE. 



49 



unable to make us happy without the predominance 
of religious principles, are yet with few, if any, excep- 
tions indispensable for earthly welfare. 

Observe in a religious woman the effects of losing 
her strongest secondary motive. The loss of a great 
love (of which almost every woman is able to form 
some estimate) is a loss greater than any human under- 
standing can measure, for, on whomsoever she lavished 
such love, it was, while it lasted, the life of her life. 
To call it the sunshine of her world is no exaggera- 
tion of poetry ; though fitful, and often clouded, and 
sometimes cruel in its fierce shining, it was the light 
that suffused every thought, every action, every object 
seen by her during the years through which it lasted. 
In its genial warmth all the brightest and most tender 
parts of her character expanded ; it was withdrawn, 
quenched by the will of God, no matter how, and 
without it she must complete her life's long journey. 
Shades less dark, because uncontrasted with sunshine, 
may now cross her path, and a more temperate atmo- 
sphere may be about her ; God's word may be a lantern 
under her feet, and a light unto her paths, and yet 



50 



SELF-LOVE. 



must it not be to her a darkened world, not only when 
the first long desert of desolation is overpassed, but 
even when she revives, and, having seen " the vani- 
ties of after and before," resolves to lead a true and 
patient life, unsupported by any hope that can perish ? 
Even then her contentment is stern, her feelings cold ; 
hard armour for a woman's heart, and she must often 
faint under it. Then comes the effect of all this upon the 
temper ; if missing the little dues of love that used to 
sweeten everything embitters it, if the unrest of a heart 
that has no longer an earthly home makes it pettish, 
if there is an acrimonious recollection of wasted feel- 
ing occasionally disturbing a constrained calm, can we 
wonder ? All the elasticity of joy is gone ; and the 
lost supposition that she is probably liked by all, 
because she is supremely loved by one, is replaced by 
a numbing belief that she is intrinsically unlovable. 
A belief which often goes far towards producing its 
own justification. Perhaps few of us know how much 
amiability and agreeable manners depend on the 
pleasant confidence (which only happy experience can 
give) that they have been and will be liked. 



SELF-LOVE. 



51 



It is very soothing to a woman to feel that she is 
generally kindly thought of by all in whose society 
she joins ; it is a superstition which cannot fail to 
strengthen the sweetest tendencies of every well-disci- 
plined nature. But, when love which "is immortal 
till it change or die" fades away, how can any one 
value mere liking ) or easily believe in its permanence ? 
Not the drooping spirit to whom it seems that 

" a terrible heart dearth 
Keigns for her in heaven and earth." 

Yes — even in heaven ; for at times she has felt as if 
heaven, with all its ministering angels, was fighting 
against her : was it not known there that she was 
leaning on a broken reed when she knelt to give 
thanks for secured happiness and unchangeable love ? 

It is easy to speak confidently of the unfailing con- 
solations of our religious faith ; but to feel them when 
first bewildered by a great sorrow is very difficult, 
and very uncommon ; for- any degree of despair con- 
fuses the mind, and the especial providence which 
was never doubted in happier times seems distant and 



52 



SELF-LOVE. 



uncertain when the " cloud is thick, and the storm 
great." And though faith triumphs, though by divine 
grace in all that the mind believes the heart com- 
pletely trusts, we must not expect faith, to remove 
the sufferings which it enables us to endure. 

It must be fairly owned that vre cannot in all ways 
make an imperishable hope a consoling substitute 
for those of which vre so bitterly bewail the extinc- 
tion ; if we could, then would not our affliction seem 
grievous. 

It is not, I think, only from man's fatal perversity 
that, if no reasonable hope presents itself, one quite 
as unreasonable will just as fully occupy the heart 
and mind; an earthly hope combines with earthly 
circumstances of every kind, takes nourishment from 
all, enlivens all ; very different is the action of the 
one great hope worthy of our utmost efforts, — the 
hope of pleasing God. 

This, though but in its earthly weakness, may 
kindle all our energies in solitude, and may be the 
mainspring of every conscious act of duty; but when 
the pettinesses of daily life press upon us, as, for 



SELF-LOVE. 



53 



instance, when several dull and unfamiliar compa- 
nions are hemming us in, how far easier, alas ! how 
far pleasanter, to corrupt nature is the thought of an 
absent one who loves us, of doings that may interest 
and please that one, than the blessed though awful 
truth, u Thou God seest me. 13 This can give dignity 
to the most insignificant occurrence, and quicken us 
to good, and wise, and kindly dealings with every 
fellow-creature. But from the extreme reluctance 
and occasional inability of a fallen nature thus to 
exalt its habitual tone of thought, it often happens 
that a noble-minded woman, when bereaved of her 
hope of this world's happiness, declines to a much 
lower state of feeling than she has ever known before, 
without giving up any degree of hope for her future 
existence ; she will retain this as her only stay, yet 
lamentably overlook many of those consolations and 
incitements to happy exertion which that hope in- 
volves ; in fact, she will often look upon the eternal 
life which through Christ we inherit, as a state so 
entirely future that the torpor and joylessness of a 

depressed spirit seem to her quite excusable, 
4 



54 SELF-LOVE, 

Well for her if under this erroneous impression 
she does not snatch at the poor accessories of worldly 
comfort as a temporary solace, and thus sink gradu- 
ally into the mournful condition so shocking to her 
earlier tastes, of a woman given up to making herself 
comfortable, 

" Se stessa amando, poiche niun pur V ama." 

It is a very natural consequence of having no one on 
whom to lavish the infinite tenderness of a" womanly 
heart. The heart that in other circumstances would, 
we may suppose, have had an inexhaustible love for 
all that were added to the home-circle, finds itself 
the centre of one so much more distant from its in- 
fluence, that undisputed room is left for the growth 
of inordinate egotism: time for true love and deep 
interest in relations and friends, but yet leisure for 
morbid solicitude about self. Poor, lonely self! which 
every year makes more incapable of love, concentrat- 
ing in its narrow focus more of the petty cares, the 
trifling but absorbing anxieties, of a never-sleeping 
selfishness. Nothing external can long please a heart 



SELF-LOVE. 55 

so perverted from me wholesome course of nature ; 
and grace earnestly implored, duties scrupulously 
fulfilled, cannot give it joy, and hardly peace. 

A sad resignation to the will of God, and an unre- 
freshing, laborious charity, every now and then 
brightened by the intensities of reciprocal friendship, 
are all we can hope for when " anxious self, life's 
cruel taskmaster," is the most interesting object of 
every thought and wish. 

You will, perhaps, think from what is here said 
that, while pretending to combat, I do really agree 
with the tenor of your most melancholy reflections, 
and that I should sigh in full assent, if you say with 
Chenier, 

" Ma yie est sans couleurs, et mes pales journe"es 
M'ofirent de longs ennuis l'enchainement certain." 

But it is not so ; I have only stayed so long among 
disadvantages and sorrows to prove that it is not 
ignorance, or want of sympathy, which emboldens 
me to assert that in great measure these sorrows 
are as full of delusion as the hopes which time has 



56 



SELF-LOVE. 



already scattered; that they are not, I believe, 
" according to the will of God," and often need 
not be at all. 

" Grief almost always may be fancy called, 
And ah ! too oft is joy but fancy too ! 
But should we therefore turn aside from joy, 
And, slave-like, cling to rigid grief alone ? 
No — let us fathom deeply sorrow's source ; 
Reflection is the real magic song 
Beneath whose spell the gloomy shadows fly 
"Wherewith an evil spirit haunts the heart." 

E. SCHULZE. 

No sensitive heart will deny that "life is full of 
weary days ;" but these need not be comfortless, even 
in the "set grey life" of middle-aged women who 
walk through it alone ; is not our eternal life already 
begun? Grief and inactivity belong to Death: we 
can, indeed, suffer ourselves to be buried in the dying 
things of a dying world, to remain for a length of 
time sleeping for sorrow; but this is not the lot 
appointed to us by our Father ; not this the peace to 
which we were called by Him who has overcome 
the world, and therefore bids us to be of good cheer. 



SELF-LOVE. 57 

Surely those wlio do not rejoice are ill able to 
advance with, humble intrepidity against those enemies 
of His and ours that encompass every earthly posi- 
tion : for how can we show forth His glory, or testify 
of His goodness, unless we feel that to us He has 
been very gracious ; and how can she feel this to 
whom every day is a burden borne wearily without 
use or joy ? I can never forget the untold misery of 
an uninteresting existence, but if I can persuade you 
to believe what appears to me to be truth, you will 
see that no part of our existence need be uninteresting. 



SELF-LOVE. 



CHAPTER III. 

M Poi die voi ed io piu volte abbiam provato, 
Come '1 nostro sperar torna fallace ; 
Dietr' a quel sommo ben, che mai non spiace, 
Levate '1 core a piu felice state' * Petrarca. 

" Parmi udire : stolto e pien 6V obblio, 
Dal pigro sonno omai 
Destati, e di corregger t' apparecchia 
II folle error che gia teco s' invecchia. 
Fors' e presso a 1' occaso, e tu nol sai 
H sol ch' esser ti par sul mezzo giorno : 
Onde piu vaneggiar. ti si disdice." CastiGtLIONB. 

The thoughtful heart that lias survived many of its 
dearest hopes cannot fail to notice a manifest intention 
of the Divine mind to destroy or abate every hope of 
man, except those which wait for eternal satisfaction. 
Let even those who have tasted hope's perfect fulfil- 
ment say whether there is not generally some alloy, 
some surprising flaw or rapid decay, in that rare bliss, 
which justifies the poet's accusation of hope as 



SELF-LOVE. 



59 



" A cloud that gilt and painted now appears, 
But must drop presently in tears." 

And as for disappointment, from the least thing to the 
greatest, we are incessantly taught its bitter but whole- 
some lessons. 

In our greatest prosperity we cannot avoid coming 
to these conclusions; — that happiness is seldom 
intended to reach us by any expected means; and 
that, if sanguine anticipations are a help to cheerful- 
ness, it is not previous instances of success that keep 
them alive, but the obstinate strength of a natural 
instinct. We learn, at last, that happiness is the gift 
of God, independent of the means we employ for 
securing it ; and that it is oftener given when it seems 
improbable, than when it is reckoned upon as a cer- 
tainty. Whether this lesson is taught by reiterated 
disappointments, or by the success that enables us to 
see the "end of all perfection," it is equally powerful 
to disenchant; but not always salutary, not always 
producing in undeceived hearts the resignation to 
which it points. 

In some there is deep resentment against what is 



60 



SELF-LOVE, 



called Pate, or " the state of things, " in order to avoid 
the obvious sin of resisting the Disposer of every fate ■ 
a resentment that vents itself in words hopelessly sad, 
or in confessions of a universal distrust ; so trying tc 
ease 

" The mocking heart, that scarcely dares confess 
E'en to itself the strength of its own bitterness:" 

— in others, a sullen and cold reserve, the effort so 
utterly to contemn the sources of past delusion, as to 
think them unworthy of mention, or even of inward 
regret: — in others, studied frivolity, a determination 
to ignore anything deeper than the light impulses 
which the world understands, and the transient affec- 
tions which no reverse can wound : — while in another 
cast of nature we see all former interests condemned 
as having been ties to earth; even natural taste 
thwarted as a rebel: and the whole being surren- 
dered to a minute observance of religious discipline, 
and the exactions of bigotry mistaken for the best 
aids of godliness. 

But these are not the necessary fruits of " the cer- 



SELF-LOVE. 



61 



tainty that struck hope dead." There are those who, 
better understanding what the will of the Lord is, 
meekly accept the pains of gradual mortification. 
They know that they must be detached from every 
earthly object that in the least degree separates from 
God; and yet they do not turn away from these 
objects altogether, because they are His gifts. They 
know that God smites their pleasant things, and 
leaves them lonely in a desert land, in order that 
they may better hear His voice, and desire His love, 
and feel that He is indeed their God; and therefore 
they thank Him for the emptiness of their present 
life, confessing that only thus could the hungry soul 
be urged to satisfy itself with things that shall 
endure. 

When first recovering from a great affliction, this 
appears difficult, almost impossible ; and, after recent 
excitements of passion, the utmost stretch of piety 
seems as if it would still leave a great void and 
silence in the heart ; but it is not found to be so by 
those who in the desert have trusted God. 

A great and wonderful work is to be wrought in 



62 



SELF-LOVE. 



every one who will submit to be guided by Infinite 
"Wisdom ; the feeble creature is to will what God 
wills ; to be raised from all its little perishing inter- 
ests ; and to seek the glory of God, and the good of 
His creatures (not excluding itself) as a portion of 
that glory. 

Whatever sorrow or bereavement befalls is a fresh 
proof that this exaltation is still designed for us : do 
any reject it, and set their hearts upon a lower good, 
still God is strong and patient ; still He waits to be 
gracious. 

Observe, I entreat you, in how many ways He 
gently strives with our foolish propensity to go down 
lower. Mental pursuits, noble and good though they 
be, cannot console you, and will not prosper, if you 
begin to treat them as ultimate ends ; nor will the 
objects of your most self-sacrificing love flourish, if 
you idolize them: even plans for doing good to 
other people will be frustrated, if every purpose and 
wish is not subordinated, without reserve, to the 
faithful service of your Master. 

To most of us it is, I hope, less difficult than it 



SELF-LOVE. 63 

once was, to believe that mercy imposes hard and 
sorrowful service. At an early age many souls are 
shaken by the surmise that the Christian religion 
may be only a temporary system adapted to the dis- 
cipline of childish intellects; later in life we have 
learned that it is securely based on eternal truths, 
which cannot be altered, though Heaven and earth 
should pass away ; and belief in these truths, growing 
as we grow, establishes in us a calming persuasion 
that they so essentially belong to our peace, that to 
neglect them is to cast ourselves adrift from the only 
anchor we have in a stormy and dangerous sea. 

Again, how often, in the surprise of grief, the 
young are tempted to doubt the goodness of God; 
but each year that has taught us more and more of 
our natural wretchedness has added new evidence of 
His love ; and, having known this love to support us 
during many severe trials, we are surely able to dis- 
miss, as futile, any train of ideas that would suggest 
the possibility of our peculiar need being overlooked 
or unprovided for now. 

And though we cannot at all times feel this love, ' 



6i ' SELF-LOVE. 

nor always discern the tenderness of a father, it is 
none the less certain to our faith; we cannot doubt 
it now: as well might people recently blinded doubt 
that there is a glorious sun shedding light on all the 
world. 

Yet, in spite of unshaken confidence in the merci- 
ful designs of Grod, there remains much blindness to 
the present advantage of the means by which they 
are carried out. Doubtless the time will come when, 
looking back upon the scene of our probation, we 
shall say with astonishment at our past ingratitude : 
"What could have been done more for us that He 
has not done? how could our eternal welfare have 
been better secured?" 

But now our spiritual perceptions are dull, and 
God's pitiful chastisements coming to us in the dis- 
guise of our own infirmity, or by the instrumentality 
of other second causes, we too often forget that each 
one is sent for healing, that each one is profitable to 
us, and indispensably needed for our cure. 

This barrenness of interest in our daily life, how 
hurtful ! What a sad pity and waste of power we 



SELF-LOVE. 



65 



should think it in a world of our own arranging ! I 
once thought it so, but now it appears to me a pause 
in the headlong rush of human propensities which we 
could ill spare. At the age of thirty-five or forty, 
with few exceptions, the half of life is gone ; those who 
have got so far in it know that they can have but a 
short time left for the completion of their earthly 
course : forty years more, or fifty, in all probability, 
at the longest, and their eternal state will be unalter- 
able (woe to them, if they reckon on even four or 
five); yet what a crowd of temporal interests will 
beset them in those few years ! how eager and occu- 
pying will be the world around them! how heavy the 
pressure of body upon spirit! how increasing the 
infirmities of both ! Do they not really need a short 
space of leisure and rest from external distractions, 
before they press forward again on the thronged road 
which leads so certainly to an unchangeable condi- 
tion? Surely it is a mercy if, at any time, it is 
granted to us to see where we stand, and whither 
we tend, without the blinding light of hope or the 
limited views of intense anxiety, We can then look 



66 



SELF-LOVE. 



back and observe- what faults have most nearly- 
worked our ruin, what natural abilities we have mis- 
used, and what habits need reform ; past experience, 
if honestly consulted, will be an emphatic witness on 
all these points. " We are " then " very sensible how 
hardly teaching years do learn what roots old age 
contracteth unto errors, and how such as are but 
acorns in our younger brows grow oaks in our elder 
heads, and become inflexible unto the powerfullest 
arm of reason ;" for we are then conscfous of follies 
which have gained the privilege of habit, and we 
know that we often most readily commit the sin for 
which we grieve most bitterly. But these oaks are 
not yet matured by old age : strong and inflexible 
though they be, it is yet in our power to cut down 
some and root out others ; the plague of our bosom 
sins may yet be stayed. Let us not waste one hour in 
fruitless lamentation, for it is still day, and the time 
for successful work. That night, the hour of death, 
which surely cometh, " when no man can work," will 
make us sigh for a time as rich in possibilities 
as this. 



SELF-LOVE. 



67 



11 Time flows from instants, and of these each one 
Should be esteem' d as if it were alone. 
The shortest space, which we so lightly prize 
When it is coming, and before our eyes, 
Let it but slide into the eternal main, 
No realms, no worlds, can purchase it again. " 

In youth we know little of the worth of present time ; 
probably it was valued mainly with regard to some 
future, or occupied by the thoughts of some regretted 
past ; but now, the many deceits of hope, and the 
bitters occasionally offered by memory to the reverted 
mind, shut us up into the present more frequently, 
and from single-hearted attention to the husbandry of 
present things, we may derive a permanent vigor, 
which no previous feeling could have enabled us to 
anticipate. 

"When the mind is no longer absorbed in one inter- 
est, when an engrossing object is removed even from 
the ken of hope, multitudes of lesser interests and 
unexciting joys are often discovered; for, as 

" Things of delicate and tenderest worth 
Are swallow'd all, and made a seared dearth 
By one consuming flame," 



68 SELF-LOVE. 

so one predominant desire will cause you to pass by 
"without notice many springs of happiness. Life has 
more affluence of joy than you can imagine when you 
see that all you once promised yourself is evidently 
not to be found in your life ; and it is at those times 
when you think you are come to the end of all illu- 
sions, and therefore suppose life to be empty of endur- 
ing interests, that you are most completely deluded. 
For this world has' many and great pleasures, as well 
as many and cruel pains ; and, when we are joyless, 
it is from our own deficiencies that we suffer, and not, 
as melancholy minds are ready to believe, from being 
able wisely to see through and disdain all that once 
pleased: perhaps we lose vivid perceptions, and 
imagination, and keen feeling, while we gain expe- 
rience and the knowledge of the world that increases 
sorrow ; but I think one may say, without presump- 
tion, that every thought which terminates in sorrow 
owes its plausible semblance of wisdom to ignorance 
and imperfect faith. 

You may naturally think, when looking on to a 
future that cannot hold the happiness for which you 



SELF-LOVE, 69 

have hoped hitherto, that it must necessarily be a 
wearisome continuation of the present. It may be so 
in its external features (though that is not often likely) ; 
but you know little of the infinite resources of Provi- 
dence, and the expansive faculties of an immortal 
spirit, if you think that years can pass by without 
causing a renovation of its activity, and a plentiful 
growth of new interests, and perhaps new pleasures. 

A short time may bring more of both than you well 
know what to do with ; you may come to feel that the 
varied occupations of every day are sometimes too 
interesting, and offer too many distractions for the 
mind that you would fain keep in settled composure ; 
thinking that the hurry of external proceedings de- 
frauds you of the leisure necessary for your soul's 
health, you may be inclined to say. 

" Still might I keep this mind, there were enough 
Within myself (beside that cumbrous stuff 
We seek without) which husbanded aright 
Would make me rich in all the world's despite." 



At such a time, should you attain it, you will find 



70 



SELF-LOVE. 



your temptations very different from those which now 
trouble you. 

Even if you correctly anticipate the circumstances 
of your life, if it is to be continued on a dead level 
of unbroken sameness, you cannot possibly foresee, 
what is of much greater consequence than its external 
course, the thoughts and feelings that may affect you, 
you know not how soon. And though it is true that 
to a very wonderful degree we make our own fate, and 
see, and hear, and notice only those things in the 
outer world which in some way accord with our 
private experience, yet God can at any moment effect 
the most sudden spiritual revolutions. You may not 
yet know them, but there are thoughts which once 
entering the heart can quicken it with new energy, 
fire every noble impulse, and leave no room for the 
sorrows that have been brooded over so long in sullen 
hopelessness. I do not mean earthly hopes in disguise, 
or love, or anything that has a worldly apparatus for 
the formation of its spells, but an idea, a truth which 
may be as a mighty lever for raising the soul to heights 
never imagined before ; and may touch it with a force 



SELF-LOVE. 71 

as unexpected as the sudden rise of wind after a dead 
calm, a wind that sweeps the sky clear of every cloud, 
and makes every leaf to dance, and every rain- drop 
to glitter at its glad awakening. 

These influences -could quickly change the atmo- 
sphere of your mind, and make you to live indeed ; 
no longer existing only, uncertain of any advantage 
in this life except the discipline by which it pre- 
pares you for another. 

Now in this limitation of the worth of life lies, as I 
think, the great danger of many pious hearts. Be- 
cause those who do not fear Grod, too highly prize 
earthly blessings, those who would be holy are apt 
to underrate them: though to "love life and to see 
good days" does not seem to have been thought an 
unworthy desire by King David, and though we are 
told by St. Paul that " God giveth us richly all things 
to enjoy," yet how seldom is enjoyment regarded by 
us as a real part of our duty. How many seek for 
no better attitude of mind than that of entire, resigna- 
tion ! but in the lives of most people, true gratitude 
and a lively faith can add joy to resignation. All 



72 



SELF-LOVE. 



that I have set before yon in this chapter is so com- 
monplace, that it would be absnrd to offer it to any 
strong-hearted reader. In depression we often need 
to be reminded of undoubted and self-evident truths 
— be this my excuse. 



SELF-LOVE. 



78 



CHAPTER IV. 

" The government of the soul must be altered from the rule of popu- 
lar opinions, and the tyranny of fancies and imaginations, to the sole 
command of Christian reason. In this great alteration let us command 
all our powers." — Sdiox Patrick's Heartsease. 

"Les occupations mecaniques calment la pensee en l'etouffant; 
Tetude, en dirigeant Tesprit vers des objets intellectuels, distrait de 
meme des idees qui devorent. Le travail, de quelque nature quil 
soit, affranchit l'ame des passions dont les chimeres se placent au 
milieu des loisirs de la vie. . . . I/amour de l'etude, loin de 
priver la vie de l'interet dont elle a besoin, a tous les caracteres de la 
passion, excepte celui qui cause tous ses malheurs, la dependance du 
sort et des hommes.'* — Madame de Stael, Sur T Influence des 
Passions sur le Bonheur. 

It would be difficult to persuade those who conceive 
themselves to be " arrives a cet age oil Ton retrouve 
le calme dans le decouragement accepts, ou Ton con- 
gedie toutes les chim&res seduisantes de la vie," that 
they have as yet no right to apply to themselves the 
conclusion of the sentence, and to designate their age 
as that also " oil Ton s'assied sur le seuil de sa porte, 
comme l'ouvrier a la fin du jour pour voir passer les 



74 SELF-LOVE. 

autres, pensant a tons ceux qui sont deja passes, et a 
Dieu qui ne passe pas."* It would be very difficult 
to arouse them from their passive state to an active 
employment of life, but it is their right to accept the 
soothing opiates of discouragement which I am eager 
to dispute. 

What seductive chimeras have they dismissed, 
except those of vain hope, vain glory, and unhappy 
love ? These being overcome, and a better chance of 
gaining truth, a wider field for doing good before them, 
will they be so cowardly as to resign themselves to 
meditative inaction ? Are they so benumbed with the 
frost that killed their own tree of hope, so stunned by 
the blow that overthrew their own towers of pride, 
that thenceforward they will risk no efforts, but sit 
down and think of past loss, till death, makes effort 
bere impossible ? Let it not be so, let us busy our- 
selves in a diligent use of the blessings that remain. 

You who have wearied your hearts &mong the 
vanities of life do well to turn from them; but be- 
cause you have scattered your powers among things 
* Lamartine. 



SELF-LOVE. 



75 



that do not profit, it does not follow as a reasonable 
consequence, that they can only be well applied by 
reducing them all to one mode of action. The un 
reasonable instincts of reaction would prompt you to 
attempt this, and you would thereby run into new 
errors. One thing, indeed, is needful, and that one 
thing demands single-hearted devotion; but if life 
was intended by our Creator to be spent solely in 
those religious duties to which you would now attach 
an undue, because it is an exclusive, degree of im- 
portance, what would be the use of the various riches 
of His creation, the various powers of mind with 
which He has endowed us ? for what would they avail 
in a life that rejected every object not immediately 
connected with religion ? 

If you intend to enter upon such a life, leave 
happiness out of your calculation ; for an unnatural 
state of things — contrary, I mean, to the nature 
Grod gave us before sin depraved it — must be an un- 
happy one. Unless we had entered into the counsel 
of the Most High, we could not understand why it 
must be so ; it is enough for me to know that He 



76 SELF-LOVE. 

gave, ana redeemed, and will restore and glorify, this 
very human nature from which I derive a multi- 
plicity of interests and affections ; and though I press 
towards a mark higher than any of the transient joys 
to which they impel me, I dare not tread them down 
even if I would. 

"When speaking of entire dedication to the work of 
advancing the glory of God, and the good of His 
creatures, I observed incidentally that from this de- 
sired good we must not exclude ourselves ; and, when 
trying to find out means of good, I see no reasonable 
escape from the prevailing opinion, that cultivation of 
intellect is extremely good for the individual as well 
as for society, a means of receiving as well as of 
imparting very great benefits. 

After all that has been said and written about intel- 
lectual development (not only by the wise), it is natu- 
ral that we should feel a distaste for the subject, a 
secret inclination to dispute the pretensions with 
which the advocates of learning have so imperiously 
wearied our attention : and besides, in these days peo- 
ple live so fast, that we often see an interest in some 



SELF-LOVE. 77 

study, or a keen delight in some science or art, omi 
nously survived ; so that both by the words and th» 
deeds of their upholders we are led to mistrust the 
excess of patronage that is now given to learning, and 
to wish for at least twenty years 7 rest from the word 
intellectual. 

Yet we should be in danger of slighting many 
important truths, if their popularity, and the number 
of triflers who gave it voice, lessened their value in 
our minds. Coin that has had a wide currency can- 
not look so bright and so worthy of being treasured 
up as it did when fresh from the mint, but it is quite 
as valuable for common use ; and brain coinage, we 
may be sure, cannot gain this currency without 
having considerable intrinsic worth. 

As I have frequently noticed that those whose 
minds have the widest range and the deepest insight 
are generally in favor of high mental culture, I do 
not allow myself to doubt its advantages because I 
find a great deal of nonsense is said about it also ; but 
believe with entire conviction that it is every way 
good for a woman to cultivate her mind to any 



78 



SELF-LOVE. 



degree, and in every direction which, does not incapa- 
citate her for more immediate usefulness, usefulness of 
that sort which being seen, and susceptible of tangible 
proof, is often called active service, in contradistinc- 
tion to that which is felt and seldom seen, but which 
is none the less service for others because it calls into 
effective action every spiritual energy. 

How many common errors are admitted from the 
habit of unconscious antithesis ! Because needle- work 
and pudding-making are active work for the hands, 
study and earnest discipline of the mind are not unfre- 
quently called dreamy and theoretic work for the con- 
venience of stirring people, who, if they sometimes tried 
what sort of work this soundless industry was, would 
not be so ready to call it " sitting idle over a book." 

But to you who have before you this difficult pro- 
blem — how to make life happy as well as useful, with- 
out some of the chief ingredients of woman's happi- 
ness, — I need not say that the disposal of many still 
hours, unclaimed for any visible activity, is often the 
very hardest part of your daily tasks. Be sure that 
.it is worthy of your best endeavors; and whatever 



SELF-LOVE. 79 

misgivings may at first disquiet you, think it no form 
of disguised selfishness which, prompts you (no other 
duty being neglected) to diligent study and careful 
self-improvement ; for, if you have strong intellectua. 
abilities, with them you will be able to honor God 
and serve man. 

If you have strong intellectual abilities, — this is the 
question on which many of your time expenses must 
depend. Perhaps you cannot answer it for yourself, 
and would be piqued if any one else decided it for 
you in the negative : yet what a relieving clearance 
it might make in your life if you would be brave 
enough to pronounce on yourself, or humble enough 
to accept from the mouth of another, one of those 
summary verdicts with which you hear the preten- 
sions of other people dismissed; such as — " She 
ought to let music alone, she has no natural taste 
for it." " Literature is not at all in her way, why 
will she attempt to persuade herself that it is?" 
*{ Why will such a one profess artistic tastes ? they 
are not her forte by any means." Could you endure 
these abrupt assertions of the truth manifest to your 



80 



SELF-LOVE. 



intimates, though only now and then suspected by 
yourself, what a vexatious waste of time and trouble 
it would save ! You might then quietly stimulate 
every taste which nature had implanted, undisturbed 
by fruitless efforts to cherish those that will never 
thrive, because the soil is unsuitable : you would be 
spared the repeated mortifications of failure and dis- 
couraging comparisons ; you would have, as I think, 
a healthier mind, and be a much happier woman. 

Do not, however, take difficulty in cultivating 
talents as a proof of their absence, for that would 
be a mistake fatal to perseverance. The most indu- 
bitable natural talent needs industrious cultivation to 
bring it into easy exercise; and especially in any 
kind of study or accomplishment which is new to us, 
or has been long neglected, do we need an obstinate 
determination to proceed in spite of defeat ; for in all 
beginnings of work there are preliminary discom- 
fitures that threaten its complete overthrow, and a 
darkening chill of hope which I can only compare to 
the slowly diminishing brightness of a candle just 
after it is lit ; we wait for a few minutes, and the dim 



SELF-LOVE. 81 

flame reaches its fuel ; so we may toil on for a few 
months unrefreshed by any sign of success, but by 
degrees tlie subject of our study takes hold of the 
mind, and, kindling all its powers, liberally rewards 
the patience of our application. 

Setting aside those acquirements for which natural 
talent may or may not dispose you, I should uncon- 
ditionally recommend a steady and patient habit of 
learning ; not only for the sake of knowledge (though 
for all that you learn in a thorough way time will 
surely bring a use), but also for the invaluable dis- 
cipline that such a habit gives to the whole character, 
so long as the mind will 

" know her place," 

and that among the objects of a Christian's anxiety 
" She is the second, not the first;" 

for then will it grow 

" not alone in power 
And knowledge, but from hour to hour 
In reverence and in charity." 

The self-idolised intellect is necessarily infatuated. 



82 



SELF-LOVE. 



Lay in ample stores of sound knowledge, as much 
as you can gain of real information ; it is precious 
gain: for many years you may not see its use, it 
may seem to you a make-believe interest, an aimless 
accumulation, by means of which you distract your 
thoughts lest they listen to the heart, or wound it 
with old sorrows ; but it is impossible for you then 
to appreciate the advantage of a well furnished mind. 
. Afterwards, when some great truth begins to touch it 
upon any point, you will be astonished at the degrees 
of light and ardent force communicated to you through 
those unvalued treasures. 

Take it also as a certain rule, that in the propor- 
tion that your nature is enriched by cultivation will 
your means for giving help and comfort to others be 
increased. 

The same power of mind which keeps your atten- 
tion fixed while reading the dry historic detail of a 
long campaign, will enable you resolutely to persist 
in carrying on some dull work for the assistance of 
another person. Therefore, if when sitting down to 
the abstracted tasks of self-teaching your mind is 



SELF-LOVE. 



83 



harassed by the thought, "Is not this a selfish way 
of spending time?" allow some weight to my assertion, 
that, if it is self-pleasing, it certainly is not necessarily 
self-ended. 

Pride, or vanity, or the neglect of more obvious 
duties, may give such employment a bad character ; 
but its own, uncombined with these faults, is very 
beneficent. 

Look around you, consult your own remembrance, 
if you wish for proof of this ; see the positive evils, 
the sin and the misery caused by folly : observe the 
self-betrayal and worldliness of an undisciplined intel- 
lect, and judge whether it can ever be right to regard 
mental training with indifference, or to mistrust it as 
a questionable advantage. 

I think we too often speak of good powers of mind, 
as if they were so much over and above the wants of 
daily life, a luxury not needed nor always desirable. 
Is not this an error ? The greatest force of human 
intellect is but weak, compared with what we were 
originally intended to possess : it is sin that has 
made folly so common, and wisdom so rare ; and 



84 



SELF-LOVE. 



wisdom and goodness are so closely connected, that a 
serious attention to the dictates of reason could not 
fail to insure a more perfect compliance with, those oi 
conscience. Now we all know that, in order to hear 
the voice of reason, we must bring our lower im- 
pulses into subjection and temporary silence; and 
who that has reached the age of thirty does not know 
the exceeding difficulty of doing this ? 

Who among us has not felt the terrible energy with 
which the passions will sometimes oppose reason ? and 
even when the storms of feeling are all at rest, is any 
woman ignorant of the strange power that a fixed idea 
may obtain in her mind, often occupying it with an 
intensity of feeling that one strives vainly to abate ? 
" There is no need of fetters, he shall go bound and 
chained by an idea," said Cecil, when speaking of the 
mysteries of man's self-tormenting spirit. 

By unrelaxing diligence in study, we can often 
withdraw the mind from the secret thraldom; and 
every hour that we are unconscious of this sort of 
slavery, we are gaining strength for the recovery of 
our freedom. It is one of the great evils of single life 



SELF-LOVE. 



85 



(though not confined to any state), that so much 
time is left for head and heart to foster their own 
especial foibles: the life of the most commonplace 
matron raises her perforce from a variety of little 
harassing annoyances, from the thick crop of self- 
sown thorns which many a lonely heart is mournfully 
harvesting. The mistress of a household cannot, in 
most cases, stop to notice the trifles that often dis- 
tress an unoccupied single woman, — she generally 
has not time to be chagrined at slights from without, 
and fancies from within ; but the other has too often 
leisure for them all. 

These are bubbles of vanity that the close-pressed 
business of an active life could leave no room for. 
Within the solitary heart a sadly unreasonable 
throng of girlish perplexities and girlish fears will 
often arise also, and the agitation they cause w T ill 
be miserably intensified by shame for what is ridi- 
culous, and alarm at what long experience has proved 
potent. 

Perhaps few suffer more acutely than those whose 
refined self-respect is outraged by needless andinexpli- 



86 



SELF-LOVE. 



cable embarrassment. Dwelling on the circumstances 
that occasion it, or analysing the emotions that accom- 
pany this painful nervous seizure, is worse than use- 
less : you may ponder all day upon something that has 
disturbed your equilibrium, with the most deter- 
mined honesty of purpose, and yet never be able to 
decide how much of vanity, or pride, or self-seeking 
was at work among the other elements of flutter ; 
such, for instance, as partial monomania from 
long seclusion, excessive influence from powerful 
natures, or merely bodily weakness. One thing you 
may be sure of, that there was enough of sin (not 
perhaps at the time, but past sin that acted as a pre- 
paratory train of combustibles,) and of folly also, past 
or present, to need pardon; why not ask for it in 
simple, childlike regret for even unconscious faults, 
and leave to your all-knowing Judge the examination 
which your very nature precludes you from carrying 
on fairly ? It is for you to watch, lest you enter into 
temptation, and, as I truly believe that a long musing 
upon past defects makes the mind incapable of 
present vigilance, let me entreat you to be more 



SELF-LOVE. 



87 



economical in your expenditure of thoughts than 
women usually are. We all practically underrate 
their importance, and yet an allowed 'thought is the 
deed of the spirit. Could we see all the calamity 
brought upon ourselves and on other people, by 
entertaining thoughts that are foolish and wrong, we 
should be more careful to keep them in a right 
channel. 

I call it a foolish thought which consciously reverts 
to an irremediable sorrow, for no other purpose than 
self-pity. Why are we not in this respect, at least^ as 
considerate of our own peace, as we are of the peace 
of any other heart ? By common politeness we are 
used to avoid subjects that are painful to our com- 
panions, when no good is to be gained by alluding 
to them ; might we not advantageously practise 
the same sort of tact with ourselves, and avoid all 
profitless self-annoyance, all meditation on sorrowful 
questions which admit of no answer but the "so be 
it" of sighing resignation? 

" He," says Jeremy Taylor, " who reflects upon all 
disturbances, switches and spurs his passion, and 



88 



SELF-LOVE. 



strives to overtake sin, and to be tied unto infelicity." 
While we spare so little time in the hurry of life for 
thankfulness, — all the blessings that surround us 
being carelessly accepted as things of course, — unless 
we guard against it, abundance of time will be given 
to every detail of discontent. 

Though the perversity and ingratitude of the human 
heart is notorious, I often marvel at this, and picture 
to myself the pitiful surprise of angels, the remorsef ul 
envy of lost spirits, if they witness this common spec- 
tacle, a self-tormented murmurer. 

Pray think for a few moments upon our daily neg- 
lect of the duty of rejoicing ; think of the glad recep- 
tion and hearty enjoyment of common mercies which 
gratitude would require ; of the many pleasures open 
to the feeling, thoughtful mind; remember how 
boundless are the resources of nature and art for the 
gratification of every innocent taste ; and then try to 
calculate how long you are in the habit of dwelling 
on these pleasures, compared to your frequent cogita* 
tions on what is " so provoking, so very annoying, so 
unfortunate." 



SELF-LOVE. 



89 



Think of the hours wasted in feeble fretting over 
inevitable trials, and ask yourself if it might not be 
worth while to abstain from this sort of occupation 
more than you do ; resolutely to turn away the 
mind's eye from distasteful objects to which no duty 
leads, and to fix it on things that offer increasing 
delight the longer and the more closely we study 
them. 

It is very natural for a woman to be plaintive, but 
the self-love which yields itself to perpetual brooding 
over daily trials, is as cruel a love as that of parents 
who ruin children by their weak indulgence. 

If we are careful as to what acquaintance we make 
in the outer world, and would exclude from intimacy 
an undesirable associate, much more should we be on 
our guard as to what thoughts we converse with in 
the wide world within ; for in the labyrinths of the 
heart are fellow-conspirators for any evil fancy ; and 
darkness enough to hide their workings until discon- 
tent, or envy, or hate, or unreasonable love, is 
invested with all the powers of imagination, and can 
assume imperious sway. And besides, the human 



90 SELF-LOVE. 

mind has such, infinite capacities, that unless it is fed 
vrith a rich supply of interests, it must in part be left 
vacant, and become more and more prone to sin from 
the admission of legionary vanities; therefore (the 
transition sounds odd, but it is not inconsequent,) I 
counsel you to get as much familiarity with any 
science, or art, or history, or even with any one period 
of history, as you possibly can. It is well to have a 
refuge for your thoughts m the wonders of the micro- 
scope, the astonishments of chemistry, the ancient 
secrets of geology, in France, or America, or any 
other place, so that the refuge be worthy, and remote 
from personal interests. 

Our home sunshine must often be dimmed by 
douds of petty chagrins; it is then of the greatest 
service, to other people as well as to ourselves, to be 
able to change the climate of our thoughts. 

The dissensions and slow struggles you read of, 
such as the long, often renewed wars of Lombardy, 
seem to have nothing to do with you or your earthly 
fate, but they have often quite as much to do with it 
as the worrying trifles that would vainly disturb the 



SE LF-LO VE. 



91 



unoccupied mind. To speculate upon the designs of 
popes and cardinals long ago dead would be, I think, 
at least as useful as to balance probabilities upon the 
question of whether so and so was surprised and hurt, 
or secretly admiring something that occurred pre- 
viously. 

Some hearts would recover a priceless freedom if 
for them by-gones could be by-gones indeed. 

Whoever has any taste or talent to cultivate may 
provide herself with the most efficacious weapons 
against futile thoughts ; and the very effort to give 
the mind a determined direction will be a valuable 
precaution against the tumult of feeling to which we 
are so often exposed. Even our best feelings need a 
firm restraint ; without it they will quickly become 
passions : take, as the commonest instance, the 
unlimited fears to which so many women are a prey. 
To what lengths of ridiculous folly will the^e not go 
unless they are under the check of a well-exercised 
reason ! 

While speaking of the advantage of continuous 
study in the foregoing pages, I have had in y ; ew 



92 SELF-LOVE. 

minds of average ability ; where there is an uncommon * 
strength of intellect, it is even more essential that it 
should be taxed with adequate exertion: sweetness of 
temper is rarely to be found with a brain habitually 
under -fed and imperfectly exercised. " Un penchant 
qui n'a pas trouve a s'appliquer donne pourtant 
quelques signes d'existence; il tourmente d'un certain 
malaise celui qui l'eprouve, et nuit au developpement 
harmonieux de ses facultes. L'ame qui n'exerce pas 
toutes ses forces subit un appauvrissement partiel, sans 
pouvoir se figurer ce qui lui manque." * 

I must again remind you that it is not the degree 
of consequence you now attach to any branch of 
knowledge which will give you a fair notion of its 
worth, or its good effect upon your future life ; for, 
until we have gone some little way in any pursuit, 
we cannot guess its value aright. Let the testimony 
of those who have carried it out weigh with you more 
than any distaste that may be only sloth-born. 

* Mde. Necker de Saussure. 



SELF-LOVE. 



93 



CHAPTER V. 

"But when God so changes thy estate that thou art fallen into 
accidents to which thou art no otherwise disposed but by grace and a 
holy spirit, and yet thou canst pass through them with quietness, and 
do the Work of suffering as well as the works of prosperous employ- 
ment, this is an argument of a great grace and an extraordinary 
spirit."— Jeremy Taylor. 

In the last chapter I have spoken of the usefulness of 
a well-cultivated mind. Many people would have 
much to tell of its happiness, for it often brings great 
joys into the heart ; but, when vfeighing them against 
the every-day pleasures of happy married life, I am 
disinchned to boast of these silent unparticipated joys. 
It is enough to praise them as a blessing which insures 
real and calm satisfaction to a contented spirit ; but 
let no one hope, by the toil of the intellect, to appease 
the hunger of the heart, * for, however well-disciplined 

* Coleridge's testimony of what he felt when listening to a 
" linked lay of truth, of truth profound a sweet continuous lay," 



94 



SELF-LOVE. 



both, may be, trust in such, means will surely be 
disappointed. 

The happiness of loving, and all the thousand little 
cares of unselfish affection, are woman's greatest hap- 
piness. I think no one will ever cheat herself into a 
contrary belief for many days together ; and a woman 
who has fully tried a variety of other interests, who 
has excelled in many accomplishments, and ripened in 
the light of much knowledge, will often be the first 
to own that in ail these there is nothing so sweet as 
the joy she feels in some trifling service of love. She 
sees, with regard to happy love, 

" That when all's done, all tried, all counted here, 
All great arts, and all good philosophies, 
This love just puts its hand out in a dream, 
And straight outreaches all things." 

is touching, and too true an echo of what is felt by many, both 
men and women, to be omitted here. 

" Ah ! as I listened with a heart forlorn, 
The pulses of my being beat anew : 
And e'en as life returns upon the drown 1 d, 
Life's joy rekindling roused a throng of pains- 
Keen pangs of love, awakening as a babe 
Turbulent, with an outcry in the heart." 



SELF-LOVE. 95 

It is curious to observe the emphasis of the heart on 
some little matter, too slight for the notice of another, 
which as a representative of feeling becomes more im- 
portant, and, for the time, far more engrossing than 
any intellectual effort. Time, so jealously guarded by 
the busy mind, is gladly lavished when needed for 
any purpose that touches the heart, and has to do with 
love, either past, present, or future; for feeling fills 
the soul more entirely than thought ever can, and 
there is a degree of rest in love which the loveless can- 
not know. Love seems to be an end for our whole 
being ; all besides is but secondary, means through, 
which we hurry, unpausing and unsatisfied. Many 
subjects interest us deeply ; but let the heart speak, 
and that alone seems worth attending to. Alas ! the 
solitary heart is apt to speak in a suffocated voice 
when no one listens for its sighs. 

I think few things are more affecting to minds of 
any delicacy, than the convulsive efforts sometimes 
made by the love-hungry and unloved to appropriate 
affection ; often as futile and contrary to reason as 
the wish to warm chill hands in the sunshine of a 



96 



SELF-LOVE. 



setting sun, but none the less pathetic. In some 
eases of this description there has been no heart- 
warming sunshine ; thick clouds and cold airs all 
through the earlier part of life, and when the sky 
became clearer it was then too late. 

11 Should some malignant planet bring 
A barren drought, or ceaseless shower, 
Upon the autumn or the spring, 
And spare us neither fruit or flower, 
Winter would not stay an hour !" 

In other instances, happy love had been brought near 
enough to thrill with a short delirium of joy, and 
then ceased, leaving the afternoon of life cold, and 
dull, and grey ; but in all these is a distempered 
state of feeling, which, whether it takes the form of 
fluttering anticipations or self-loathing timidity, in- 
fallibly dooms the unhappy sufferer to the manifold 
evils of disproportionate emotion. The proud and 
happily ignorant will laugh at all this as mere vanity. 
May they never know what anguish of mind such 
hapless vanity involves, and yet may they soon leara 
the womanly grace of pity ! 



SELF-LOVE. 97 

Do Dot think that a woman's instinctive wish to 
please, to love, and be loved, can ever die before she 
dies : it may sleep, long crushed by overwhelming 
disadvantages ; but it will often rouse too late, and 
move again as the sap moves in the trunk of a fallen 
tree, and clothes it with the piteous ornaments of an 
unseasonable, hopeless spring. And therefore those 
who speak of it as impossible, or with a tone of 
mockery, may unconsciously inflict pain ; they speak 
of that which is alive to every chance touch, as if it 
was dead and insensible ; as if that which ought not 
to be, necessarily v:as not, — a cruel error, and most 
unsuitable to the purpose for the sake of which it is 
sometimes defended. One folly was never success- 
fully treated by another ; and to ridicule that obsti- 
nate tenacity of hope is quite as unwise as allowing it 
in one's own heart. 

Perhaps we can all look back to a time when the 
sombre serenity of elderly spinsters has caused us a 
pitiful surprise ; we have wondered how they were 
able to survive hopes, without which life then seemed 
nothing worth ; we have puzzled ourselves to imagine 



93 



SELF-LOVE. 



what joy they found in their quiet days, what interest 
in their dull employments. Their quiet, their seeming 
dulness, may now be our portion ; and yet we find no 
lack of excitements underneath that seeming. So it 
is with many who appear to all observers at rest in a 
long winter; for sometimes, though reason has dis- 
missed them, the ghosts of old feelings may haunt 

" the desolated heart 
Which should have learn'd repose." 

Underneath earth's frost-bound surface lie many germs 
undestroyed. Should a warm week in December 
make them to push upwards, as if the smile of spring 
summoned them to beautiful life, it is not an inclina- 
tion to ridicule that we feel. 

Do not let us ever forget that we may all be liable 
to unseasonable emotion, and if we perceive any trace 
of it in ourselves, or in other people, let us meet it 
with respectful compassion ; and let us endeavor con- 
stantly to bear in mind that, for self-admiring love, 
this is indeed a winter time, intended for its utter 
extinction ; but that every impulse of kindliness and 



SELF-LOVE 



09 



tender pity is now to grow and flourish in the bracing 
atmosphere of self-abnegation, being thus trained fur 
full expansion in the light of an eternal spring. 

There are, unhappily, very many who have to learn 
in middle age all the complicated sorrow of exile from 
the home of their childhood ; only those who have 
been so rooted up can tell what this sorrow is. It is 
not simple grief; it is a revolution that painfully 
affects every habit of thought and action. Only they 
who are 

K great in faith, 
And strong against the grief of circumstance," 

can endure such complete change, such variety of loss, 
without repining. Not to speak of heart-anguish 
from bereavements, the mere fact of being removed 
to an entirely new locality causes many kinds of trial. 
We owe so much of our delight in nature's loveliness 
to our ever-growing store of associations ; bitter and 
sweet, they all add a mellowing tint to each object on 
which the eye is wont to rest ; and, when we are 
about to leave them, the writhed stem of an apple- 



100 



SELF-LOVE. 



tree, the whiteness of a winding road, and emerald- 
green of home meadows have a language, vague and 
unemphatic ten years before, but now so piercing 
that, in order to avoid some measure of the pain it 
awakens, it would be well if in days of undisturbed 
prosperity we could attach our hearts to what is com- 
mon in all country places — to the universal bounties 
of nature, the tender green tracery of April leaves, 
the shimmer of evening light on cornfields, the glow- 
ing clearness of a winter's horizon, and the like, — 
valuing every beauty of earth and sky that meets us 
everywhere, as the common furniture of our wide 
earthly home, the gifts of an ever-present Father, 
from whom neither life nor death can separate us if 
we steadfastly cleave to Him. 

Again, many of our virtues are so far the result of 
our position and surroundings, that it is sometimes 
the saddest part of a change of home in middle age, 
that it occasions a new sense of inferiority. You may 
lose, so to speak, those who were as a sounding-board 
to the best parts of your character ; and, by removal 
from the neighborhood that was rich in proofs of 



SELF-LOVE. 



101 



your kindness and benevolent exertion, you may feel 
placed among aliens, and begin insensibly to share 
tlie same doubts of your powers of usefulness which 
ignorance of your character may cause in the minds 
of strangers. 

To lose character with oneself in any way is very 
dejecting; but this dejection will be of use if it 
enables you to detect faults and weaknesses that had 
become so privileged in a friendly circle as to escape 
censure, and evade your own observation, 

In any distant removal we lose weight of personal 
influence; we have, as it were, no capital of social 
respect to depend upon, and for tributes to our self- 
love we are thrown upon the immediate gains of 
personal prestige, at a time when we are least inclined 
to exert ourselves to win favor. It seems hard to her 
who knows she has capacity for exerting strong influ- 
ence, and the spells by vv^hich passions are stirred, love 
kindled, and anger restrained at pleasure ; it seems 
cruel for her to be confined to a circle where her 
powers are not recognised, and her influence hardly 
felt, 7 



102 



SELF-LOVE. 



To learn to hold peculiar powers in abeyance, and 
find pleasure from a sameness of petty duties and 
unexciting successes ; to learn to rejoice in the effects 
of her needle, and to triumph over the stubbornness 
of calico and silk, instead of the secret joys of noble 
influence and the flush of conscious attractions, is a 
great change, but a change for which she should 
thank God, for it leads to humility. 

The talents necessary for command, which are often 
endured in all their restless vehemence without any 
scope for command, once wholly submitted to the 
direction of the All- wise, will be powerful instruments 
for His service ; can higher honor await them ? And 
it is to be observed, that we are quite unable to 
measure the limits of personal influence : the obscure 
duties that now remain to one who was once allowed 
to discharge duties of evident importance, may be no 
less useful in their remote effects. 

The world is like a wide whispering gallery : the 
report of every little deed, good or bad, often sounds 
afar off; it reaches many of whom the doer knows 
nothing, and may plant either an evil seed, or a 



SELF-LOV.E. 103 

glorious hope and glad encouragement, in many distant 
hearts. No one can act in the most secluded life 
without helping or harming others ; and it is beyond 
human power to calculate how much. 

If you have ever had the dearest love, you know 
the frequent wish when absent from the one who 
loved you, that he could see your best deeds, your 
sweetness of temper in trial, your charity and right 
activities ; and you have felt in time of trouble, that 
could he know all your efforts to bear it cheerfully it 
would be great consolation ; if it is now granted to 
you to love God with your whole heart, you will 
remember that you have an ever- watchful friend who 
loves you with patient enduring mercy, by whom 
nothing of right intention or good work is over- 
looked, for 

" Heaven's king keeps register of everything 

and though bitterly feeling the loss of supporting 
love, that would have smiled on each little success, 
and approved each little struggle against evil, you 
must not forget that we do not only hope for the 



SELF-LOVE. 



approbation of the Most High, when virtue is 
severely exercised; everything done or said aright, 
and in harmony with the laws He has prescribed 
and the nature He has given, we may believe to be 
pleasing to Him, and in its measure acceptable 
service. 

I suppose that a woman's surest instinct is obedience, 
however closely she may mask it now and then by 
her wilfulness, because every woman has an innate 
longing to rest her weakness by yielding to superior 
power : in the isolation of unmarried life, as well as 
under the yoke of an ill-assorted marriage, this in- 
stinct is often miserably thwarted, for it is not all 
who are blessed with objects of affectionate reverence 
when the father of a family is removed ; yet when no 
such support seems left to you, even then in your 
utmost grief remember that " the Comforter that 
should relieve your soul" is never, can never, be far 
from you. 

God removes every prop on which you rested, in 
order that you may cling for ever, with unchanging 
faith, to the "Bock of Ages." 



SELF-LOVE. 



" My God ! if Thou shalt not exclude 

Thy comfort thence ; 

What place can seem to troubled sense 
So melancholy, dark, and rude, 
To be esteem'd a solitude ?" 



106 



SELF-LOVE. 



CHAPTER VI. 

'Be admonished by the misfortunes and calamities that thou 
beholdest, and be not deceived by the world and its beauty, and ita 
falsity and calumny, and its fallacy and finery; for it is a flatterer, 
a cheat, and a traitor. Its things are borrowed, and it will take the 
loan from the borrower; and it is like the confused visions of the 
sleeper, as though it were the sarab of the plain, which the thirsty 
imagineth to be water ; the devil adorneth it for man until death." — 
Arabian Epitaph. 

u Those that are the best men of warr against all the vanities and 
fooleries of the world, do always keep the strongest guards against 
themselves." — Sir W. Ralegh's History of the^ World. 

Whek we have given up all early hopes of what 
society can do for our happiness, we often too much 
forget what it is still our duty to do for society. Even 
if sorrow does not make us selfish, indifference makes 
us very regardless of social claims ; and when it ap- 
pears that on us will devolve all their burden without 
any of their rewards; that without the depths of home 
happiness, which give a warm hue to every trifling 
incident, we shall have to keep up a polite semblance 



SELF-LOVE, 107 

of interest where we feel none, of pleasure where we 
only find weariness, of amusement where not a word 
or look dissipates the irksome restraint of seemings, 
then we feel that social life is imposed upon lis under 
hard conditions, and that for the imagination iv has 
no kind of allurement. And yet a woman in elder 
years possesses a decided advantage which in youth 
she* could not have : she has more liberty, not only 
spiritual freedom from the too strong influence of 
another, which the heart obtains with a great price ; 
but the liberty allowed by conventional usage to 
those who have, unhappily, no one about them that 
cares to accept their tributes of deference ; and sad as 
it may seem sometimes, 

" Liberte* est delectable, 
Belle et bonne ; et bien profitable," 

compared with a possible alternative that has been 
known by some, the unmanly tyranny which, if it 
had the power to do so, would even keep the con- 
science of a wife in life-long subjection. But it is 
true now as in the days of Petrarch, that " liberty 



108 SELF-LOVE, 

dolce e desiato bene,' 7 will ever be " mdl conosciuio a 
chi tabr nolperde." 

It is curious to observe the contrast of manner in 
holding opinions, in the same person at different 
ages: with a young woman, there is not only diffi- 
dence and hesitation from being still little conversant 
with the world, but very often an unconscious refer- 
ence to the standards of another mind ; from a woman 
who is old, either in years or in resignation, — being 
reconciled to a single combat with the difficulties of 
life,— a careless tone of rapid decision, or an emphatic 
announcement of fixed principles, tells us that she 
who so speaks expects no other champion than her 
own resolved mind, no other welcome for her 
thoughts than that to which they are entitled by 
intrinsic worth. 

If she has a resolved mind, she will have cleared 
it once for all of the absurd notion, that in the fact 
of being unmarried there is anything to wound a 
woman's pride or self-love : she will leave that folly 
to under-bred women and rude boys, for she will 
hold it to be against truth, as well as against self 



SELF-LOVE. 



109 



respect, to feel in the least degree lowered in society 
because she is content to live alone. And if she is a 
singularly gifted mortal she may even be consistent, 
and remain untroubled by finding that other people 
think of her, as she thinks of herself, as no longer an 
ornamental member of society, however useful and 
beloved she may be in her own circle. A great step 
has been made in the education of a woman who 
holes past forty, when she fully understands that 
beauty of appearance is no more expected from her ; 
and she will be, I think, wise and happy in the pro- 
portion that she ceases to require and look for it in 
herself. But there is an Undying charm which is not 
expected in all women only because it is so rarely 
met with that we are willing to believe it more of 
a fortunate grace than a common result of essential 
virtues, it is simplicity. How rare, we know from 
the delightful surprise it gives us when seen in any 
high degree. Nervousness, the hydra-headed evil of 
modern constitutions, militates against this, perhaps 
as much as any positive fault ; and yet I am per- 
suaded that, in spite of the most cruel suffocations 



110 



SELF-LOVE. 



that feminine nature can endure from a nervous 
mood, real simplicity of heart will yet prove that 
within the trembling creature still wears "V usbergo 
del sentirsi puro," that she is pure from foolish fancies, 
and the insatiable greediness of vainglory. 

If any who read these lines have lost this priceless 
charm among the false and wearying services of a 
frivolous world, let me say to them in the words of 
Behmen, " Come with me into the centre, there is 
rest;" come back to realities; come back to your im- 
perishable spirits ; turn from this ceaseless attention 
to what is outside the life of the soul, and take heed 
to what is going on there. Simplicity may be re- 
gained, at least in a measure ; be sure of that : if at 
all it must be by a slow and painful process of ex- 
ternal and internal mortifications, but if by the grace 
of God given, and the human reason exercised, it 
may be won back, who would not rather regain it by 
suffering, than continue under a cloud of falsities that 
will thicken and grow darker, until the terrible day- 
light of eternity "shall sweep away the refuge of 
lies?" It would be difficult to put into words a 



SELF-LOVE 111 

method for endeavoring to recover simplicity, yet 
some things that conduce to it may be mentioned 
without risk of misapprehension. 

To refrain from the ^ color commandato dal 
capo" which so much offended Alfieri, and will 
offend every honest mind whenever it is seen ; to 
avoid putting on an appearance of great amusement, 
or great regret, or lively joy, when only a slight 
tincture of these feelings is in the heart, might enable 
us to converse with something more of absolute sin- 
cerity : to abstain from any turn of expression that 
brings oneself into an honorable or picturesque light, 
would be worth an effort for the same purpose. The 
stronger the mind that makes it, the more successfully 
will it be done; for to see what is false and over- 
strained, and instantly to reject every movement and 
word and look that is so, to be rigorously true to 
oneself under all temptations to exaggerate, demands 
an effort of which perhaps only a powerful mind is 
capable, and certainly it is one that only a religious 
mind can make with hopeful perseverance. 

Do I calumniate my sex by my fears, when I tax 



112 SELF-LOVE 

them generally with a deplorable want of simplicity ? 
If so, how is it that many people whose hearts are 
set on doing right, whose intentions are guileless 
as an infant's, whose tempers are habitually even, 
have faces so dim and embarrassed by the shifting 
expression which disturbs implicit trust; what has 
robbed them of the look of innocence, if it is 
not vanity? Alas! have not the restless intricate 
workings of social ambition stamped on many faded 
features an anxiety that is more wearing than any 
other, because it is ignoble and unconfessed? And 
some will say : " It may be so, but it is inevitable; in 
the present state of society there is every incitement 
to womanly vanity, and little rest for the heart." I 
can believe this ; I know that the spells by which the 
world bewitches souls are stronger, as the cultivation 
of mental powers and the refinements of luxury are 
raised to a higher pitch, but I am sure that the power 
given us to resist them is stronger also. 

We hear complaints on all sides of our slavery to 
conventional error ; do we mean to join in making 
these complaints, and yet to do nothing in our own 



SELF-LOVE. 113 

lives to remedy the evil ? Let us seriously consider 
whether any branch of the family of Adam is in- 
tended to be driven through life like irrational help- 
less sheep, bleating protests as they go against the 
thorny ditch which only their own folly in trusting 
to a foolish, leader causes them to approach ? Though 
the main body of sheep-like human beings persist in 
going in a bad way because their fellows do, must we? 
Cannot we turn aside and make a new and wiser lead, 
and prove that if all the world lends itself to deceit 
we will yet be true ? 

Now to be true in anything, however small, is very 
wholesome ; it puts new life into what would be other- 
wise a dead and burdensome form. To give an exam- 
ple of this, would it not be a reviving return to true 
feeling from mere heartless expression, really to have 
a kind and earnest wish for each person's good, when 
you verbally wish one a good morning or good night ? 

I know it will be thought too much to expect that 
feeling should always accompany the phrase express- 
ing it, but would it not be well to endeavor to bring 
the two a little more into harmony ? Being a matter 



114 



SELF-LOVE. 



of feeling only, the change would not be within reach 
of censure or praise, and, however singular, no one 
could be blamed for eccentricity, because her wish 
was as kind as her words. 

"We want heartiness ; and I think every woman, 
married and unmarried, might do her best to be hearty 
and genial, whenever she may be so without giving 
rise to misapprehensions. While our climate continu- 
ally endangers temper by its long-lasting gloom, its 
sudden chills, and gusty fits of baffling weather, must 
we have coldness and gloom in our manners also ? 

An agreeable American writer has lately described 
England as M the country which is loved by its people 
with such pugnacious patriotism, while they are always 
running away from its taxes, its sea-coal fires, and the 
grim exclusiveness of its society." * 

Might not every sensible Englishwoman do some- 
thing towards removing this last deduction from Eng- 
land's happiness ? The fervent patriotism that times 
of trouble would surely elicit might, I think, be exer- 
cised nobly, though without the inconvenience of 

* HillarcVs Six Months in Italy. 



SELF-LOVE. 115 

renown, in our secluded drawing-rooms. I do not 
believe that patriotism is so faint a feeling in any true- 
hearted Englishwoman, as to be awakened by misfor- 
tune and opposing influences only ; but, in the long 
prosperity of our country, we have willingly suc- 
cumbed to an enemy more prevailing than any from 
whom our watery bulwarks divide us ; and true 
patriotism can never animate the heart that is content 
to be enslaved. Our intestine foe has many names ; 
by some, still vigilant over their spiritual freedom, it 
is called ivorldliness, and feared ; by others, respecta- 
bility, and studiously honored; and by the weaker 
class of minds, etiquette, and fashion ; but by all it is 
served. Those who grumble at its yoke, those who 
. affect to despise it, those who resist it as antichristian, 
those who reverence it as the only authority for taste, 
and those who love it as a support to their pride, all 
agree in this, that they feel it to be a great power. 
•And perhaps this is partly attributable to the inde- 
finiteness of its authority ; when the imagination of a 
proud and self-respecting nation determines its claims, 
no wonder if the}- are at all times exorbitant. Yet 



116 SELF-LOVE. 

it is sad to reflect on the consequences of this tyranny, 
and to suspect, in our saner moments, that the despot 
in whose service many a face grows wrinkled, and many 
a heart becomes heavy and vile, is after all little better 
than a phantom. Only righteous hearts, strong in their 
simplicity and good sense, can ever annihilate its sway. 

" He who taught man to vanquish whatsoever 
Can be between the cradle and the grave, 

Crown' d him the king of life. Oh, vain endeavor t 
If on his own high will, a willing slave, 

He has enthroned the oppression and the oppressor.'* 

This is what most women do : being by nature and 
education nervously sensitive to the opinion of others, 
and fully aware of the worth of appearances in 
causing credit or discredit, they unfortunately cherish 
every habit that can intensify this susceptibility ; and, 
both by practice and precept, succeed in transferring 
to all whom they influence the same inordinate defer- 
ence to an external and unauthorised rule of conduct, 
which cripples and debases their own. Indeed, the 
rule of fashion and of " ivhat-is-expected" is not only 
foreign to conscience, but very frequently in direct 



SELF-LOVE. 117 

opposition to its mandates. Would that some wise 
man* might be given to England, able to teach her, with 
the force of temperate eloquence, what a flood of evils 
is rising up from our devoted idolatry of appearances 
For luxury too often deadens every spiritual sense, 
When warned of the dangers of worldliness, what plau- 
sible half-true arguments we can bring forward in 
defence of those things which Jeremy Taylor had the 
courage to denounce as u accursed superinduced neces- 
sities!" " Without some degree of conformity, there 
would be no means of good influence," — " No possi- 
bility of acting in combination with those who expect 
such and such things." Some degree ! but let us be 
honest, and ask ourselves if by far the greater part of 
our country's busy population do not manifestly over- 
pass that degree of conformity (to what rich people 
choose to expect) which justice and charity would 
warrant ? 

* Because, if a woman touches on a question that is compli- 
cated with matters of which she can know little or nothing, she 
is apt to write, as I do, with warm feeling, but no competent 

knowledge of the best means for remedy. 
8 



118 SELF-LOVE. • 

Let any reflective mind consider this subject in 
London, in our fearfully opulent metropolis ; will it 
not there confess that luxury has reached a very 
dangerous height ? It may be that my apprehensions 
are excessive, but I own that this sign of national 
prosperity gives me more alarm than satisfaction. I 
see, that for things and persons to look well, has be- 
come a need urgent as nature's craving for sustenance ; 
that this desire for fair appearance is intensified to a 
fierce passion by the increased susceptibility of modern 
character ; so that now, to dress and live among 
those that are rich, in a style betraying narrow means, 
is often a real agony, — a state which, to endure 
serenely, requires something of a martyr's boldness and 
fortitude. 

See the countless rows of new houses springing up 
around London. Are they also to be filled with a 
struggling and unhappy race, more and more liable 
to be maddened by the growing lust for ornament and 
bodily advantages ? Is there no reasonable hope of a 
really God-fearing generation filling those new homes 
with the peace and contentment of religious lives ? 



SELF-LOVE. 119 

I need not remind any of my readers that in a heart 
ever goaded by the fear of the w&rWs requisitions, the 
fear of Grod cannot prevail ; but let me be pardoned if 
I suppose that we may too often forget how gradually 
the curse of slavery to the world overcomes conscience, 
how, little by little, it enthrals every thought and 
action. 

We do not always begin by doing or not doing a 
thing for fear of appearances; at first this is a 
secondary consideration, but in course of time, if 
habitually swayed by worldly motives, we think first 
and longest of appearances, last and least carefully of 
the real nature of our doings ; and then the enemy 
will secure that. 

• And if in one single heart the world obtains this 
disproportionate homage, how far more potent is its 
authority among numbers ! Such strange credit has 
the majority, even with the wise, that what is usual 
soon becomes recognised as necessary ; and thus we 
combine to load each other with fetters, because we 
see them worn by*slaves equally infatuated. 

The young, instinctively taking their bias from 



120 SELF-LOVE. 

those about them, cannot avoid regarding appearances 
as all-important while they witness on all sides the 
sleepless anxiety about externals, by which modern 
life is corrupted. 

I shall be thought too ridiculous if I express fully 
my objections to the very general use of looking- 
glasses on many sides of our rooms ; it does, of course, 
heighten the bright effect of light and color, but can it 
fail to rivet attention more and more upon the body — 
upon its beauties or its defects ? 

In the luxury of our tables every one who has had 
a first-hand acquaintance with the sufferings of the 
poor, must, I think, be eager for reform ; for if the 
poor are doomed by their position in life to insuffi- 
cient nourishment, it seems that the rich are in danger 
even more fatal of superabundance ; by which I mean 
only a measure of eating and drinking that exceeds 
the real demands of a healthy appetite, and to this I 
fear many of us may be addicted without any con- 
scious greediness. The very shape of our days, in 
many rich households, brings the temptation; one 
meal served with profuse liberality is followed by 



\ 



SELF-LOVE. 121 

another so soon, that people cannot always acquire a 
suitable appetite by the time the next appears. Do 
you say, — "True; but this is only a precaution of 
hospitality, not by any means a constraining invita- 
tion to eat?" I answer, that in design it is so, but 
that in practice we are frequently betrayed into taking 
Utile, yet many superfluities, enough to make piteous 
contrast to the half-satisfied cravings of many a hard- 
working laborer. 

If in our own eyes any excess in eating seems a 
very vile and hurtful one, how must it appear to 
those who see their little ones crying for bread, of 
which they cannot give them enough ? how to servants, 
— the link between the two classes, — who must often 
hear their employers say, — u AYe cannot afford to 
help " such and such a petitioner ? how to Him who 
has told us what shall be the manner of His judgment 
when we are brought before Him to give account of 
the deeds done in the body? 

No one is less inclined than I to advocate ascetic 
mortifications of the body or the mind ; for I believe 
we are to receive and enjoy the good things given to 



us with thankfulness ; and in order to do so we must 
be careful to make them good things by a watchful 
temperance. 

It is not asking you to put a rigid check upon your 
enjoyments to ask for a close attention to the fine 
limits of enough ; for beyond these I defy any one to 
find real enjoyment. Sensuous pleasure for a few 
moments they may find who go on eating nice food, 
when nourishing food has already been taken in suffi- 
cient quantity; but how heavy a dulness of spirit 
comes with an habitual excess of this transient plea- 
sure! what frivolity of mind! what suspicions of 
degradation ! what irritating pleas for self-contempt ! 
Satiety can never give us satisfaction. I have spoken 
plainly on this ugly subject because I believe every 
one, with or without a household of her own, may be 
of great use in helping to redress this wrong to human 
nature ; and the means, for which I wish to tax every 
educated woman, is agreeable conversation. 

There is much in our social system besides hospita- 
lity and ostentation, and doing as others do, that is 
apt to induce excessive gratification of the palate, 



SELF-LOVE. 



123 



Even high cultivation of mind contributes sometimes 
to strengthen the temptation ; for the person who 
naturally aspires to a pure and earnest life, often 
checked by dull companionship, will find in society a 
kind of compensation for the thwarting of high aspira- 
tions in the over-indulgence of childish tastes ; it is 
thus that in the dire stagnation of thought and feeling 
which reigns round many dinner-tables, a conscientious 
person may be led into the sjjiall excesses which act 
most perniciously on the finest spirits. 

If, as I think, a simpler, heartier tone in conversa- 
tion would tend to obviate these declensions of natures 
grievously bored, it is surely worth while to relax 
some of those needlessly "icy precepts of respect" 
that make so many women content themselves with 
manners inaccessibly smooth and vapid. From every 
woman, moderately endowed with tact, warm kindli- 
ness and lively sympathy might surely flow unre- 
buked : these could hardly be misunderstood if they 
were habitual. Why then should it be considered 
ladylike to intrench a feeling heart in the appearance 
of unwomanly coldness ? 



124 SELF-LOVE. 

I believe that a sensible unmarried woman may be 
of real service to her sex by showing a modest inde- 
pendence of thought and feeling ; for when it is shown 
agreeably to good taste and the law of kindness, it is 
always welcomed even by those who are themselves 
enslaved to conventional usage. Anything which 
proves that principles have still a force which can 
burst the stiff crust of our social formality is pleasant, 
because it emboldens us to hope that subservience to 
the world's code of proprieties (translated freely by 
mere suspicions of " What will be said of us?") is not 
an inevitable doom, 

I do not say that this practical protest against 
social dangers is possible to all ; some minds, how- 
ever sincere in the wish to do good, and pure from 
the contaminations of worldly vanity, may yet shrink 
from every manifestation of unexpected singularity as 
from an intolerable exposure of inmost feelings ; and 
even should they resolve now and then to go against the 
tide of opinion, it would be so painful an effort that the 
strength of their principles could scarcely be detected 
among contradictory symptoms of embarrassment. 



SELF-LOVE, 125 

Delicacy of nature and constitutional reserve may 
thus limit their mode of resisting evil to passive 
measures; and what they cannot actively oppose, 
they may discountenance by the gentleness of silent 
non-approval ; — which is, you will remember, widely 
different from censorious contemning silence; this 
last being, according to my ideas, one of the strongest 
means we can employ for perpetuating evil, both in 
our own hearts and in the conduct of others. 

The most retiring woman may also avoid the 
danger of cowardly compromise, into which so many 
run in middle age, partly from weariness and despair 
of doing any good by persisting in antagonism with 
society as they found it when their faith in the 
power of truth was unshaken, when human nature 
was not distrusted, nor the prizes of social success 
despised,— as they still find it when scanned with 
sadder eyes, — as they will probably leave it when 
called to a better life; and partly from the allure- 
ment of any sympathy that is possible, and the 
enticing pleasure of being everywhere welcome ; but 
chiefly from the ease with which we yield to any 



126 SELF-LOVE. 

prevalent custom, however foolish and bad. Look 
back for a moment; did not the young heart once 
abhor gossip; scorn " tittle tattle" about other 
people's sayings and doings ; reject flattery, and dis- 
dain to acquiesce in sentiments which it felt to be 
either false or debasing? Did not the young girl 
often sit among her elders wondering that people 
who had lived so long could think so little, and busy 
themselves with trifles so infinitely disproportioned 
to their faculties ? How often has she turned flash- 
ing eyes from a bevy of whispering talkers to the 
page of some book, urgent in its eloquence or pro- 
found in thought, fancying in her proud ignorance 
that only folly stirred those agitated heads by the 
fireside, and that when she was a grown-up woman 
she would set a better example ; she would not con- 
descend to the degradation of frivolous small-talk ! 
Many think so in youth ; but — • 

" The unconquered powers 
Of precedent and custom interpose." 

And it will sometimes happen that the same girl, 



SELF-LOVE. 127 

whose lofty ideal once betrayed her into the folly of 
contempt, will now as a middle-aged woman take no 
small share in the gossip and trifling excitements of 
her own circle. 

It has now too strong a hold upon her self-love 
and personal interests to appear trifling to herself; or 
if it does, u there is no help for it ; it is no use setting 
oneself up to be unlike the rest of the world ; nothing 
so unpleasant, so universally disliked as eccentricity 
in women; and after all you cannot always be in 
earnest, you must take people as you find them." 

And thus if she had a young friend, resembling her 
former self, who was inclined to think it possible to 
"tread custom down in the high march of truth, " 
the advice she would be likely to give would be 
similar to Benvenuto Cellini's — "Dissi a quelle 
parole, che gli uomini che volevano fare a lor modo, 
bisognava che si facessino un mondo a lor modo, 
perch& in questa non si usava cosi;" and, with some 
important qualifications, such counsel would be 
worth attending to. But oh, let not the older mind 
long chastened in the school of this uneasy world 



128 SELF-LOVE. 

forget the noble instincts of youth, and the pure 
hopes which once seemed so indestructible, Excite- 
ment may be at an end, but why should enthusiasm 
die out? Must every one be carried as far in an 
opposite extreme as once they used to go in another ? 
Do not believe it. The standard of excellence held so 
high in youth need not sink, ought not to be lowered 
in cowardly despondency, must not be snatched 
away from us in the turmoil of battle ; but it must 
be more carefully guarded, more closely beset with 
able defences, never again must arrogancy vaunt of 
its glory, or intemperate zeal place it on untenable 
ground. 



SELF-LOVE. 



129 



CHAPTER VII. 

"I love wisdom and honour it ; but when slights and crynks ara 
joined therewith, as I am sorrye sometymes to see, commonly thereof 
followeth infinite incommodities both to the party that useth them, and 
to them also that are therewith advised." — Cecily Lord Burleigh. 

Oke of our many clever novelists * has characterised 
the transition of a hero in his tale from boyhood to 
man's estate by this feature, that having as a boy 
thought of himself with reference to other people, as a 
young man he began to think of them in reference to 
himself. It is a very marked difference, particularly 
in the life of any sensitive heart ; but an alteration 
that is made so gradually is often little noticed, until, 
observing in the manners of some one else traces of the 
feelings we have outgrown, we are suddenly reminded 
that there is a great change in ourselves. It is to this 
change, of which I suppose every grown-up woman is 

* L, S, Lavenu in Erksmere. 



130 SELF-LOVE. 

more or less aware, that I would now call your atten- 
tion in behalf of your younger friends. Perhaps the 
lips that have received the seal of long endurance will 
smile at a demand for pity in the case of those whom 
they often think of as enviable ; and stern spectators 
of the sentimental fashions of the day may naturally 
object to any fresh disturbance about the trials of 
youth. " We have already heard so much of them," 
they may say, "such an inordinate fuss is now made 
about these young people; everything is to be sub- 
servient to their highest development ; and the inter- 
esting process of soul-culture cannot, it seems, be 
carried on now in old-fashioned retirement; in the 
broadest sunlight, obtruded in the midst of all other 
concerns, however important, these precious young 
people must be cultivated, improved, stimulated, 
talked at, or talked of, till we poor unfortunate elders 
can seldom find any rest from the subject of education; 
and being considered as little better than implements 
of culture for our juniors, we are thrown aside like 
other tools and neglected, if unable or unwilling to 
advance the all-absorbing work." 



SELF-LOVE. 131 

There may be overmuch bitterness in the tone of 
such assertions, because it is evident that they proceed 
in great measure from the resentment of self-love, but 
I confess that I cannot dissent from them. I think 
that even such an excellent thing as education can be, 
and often is, carried much too far ; and when this is 
the case, it seems to me a schooling that will result in 
the most deeply rooted selfishness. 

Intelligent children quickly see that their good is 
the main object in view, and this coincidence with the 
tendency of self-love is not so much disturbed by 
differences of opinion in the teacher and the taught 
about the nature of good, as to slacken the efforts oi 
self-will, or impede the growth of a very subtle and 
comprehensive vanity. 

In discharging our duties towards younger people, 
as in so many other cases, we find the penalty equal 
and apparently often more than equal to the good 
gained by an increased sense of responsibility; for 
children (like servants and poor people) sometimes 
know more of the feelings that weigh on our hearts 
^than they could if they were able to share in our 



132 SELF-LOVE 

modes of action ; also they see results of feeling, and 
tendencies, all the more clearly from their perfect 
unconsciousness of practical difficulties, for with a 
knowledge of these the wholeness of their attention to 
symptomatic appearances would be at an end ; and 
thus, perceiving how much we feel it our duty to give 
them every possible advantage, they draw their own 
conclusions as to what they have a right to expect 
from us, and make sure that the consideration of their 
good must be uppermost in every older mind. This, 
however, is a question apart from my present purpose, 
and only entered upon so far as a pledge of entire 
sympathy with those among my readers who believe 
that we might help our young friends quite as much 
and rather more, if we did not give to their early 
interests a prominence and an emphasis of solicitude 
which is inevitably withdrawn from later struggles and 
later success. And yet I want to enlist your kindest 
feelings for certain sufferers in this much considered 
class ; to point out symptoms of real affliction among 
them, which I think older minds are very likely to 
forget. 



SELF-LOVE. 133 

If I could fully waken your memory, and prevail 
on you to compare what you once were and all that 
you once suffered from what other people were towards 
you, with that which you now are, and that which 
young people may now suffer from your present 
character, I should have done enough. Allow me to 
be an honest friend, and to remind you that while 
each year has insensibly added to your powers of 
giving pain or pleasure, — and in lessening some 
degrees of susceptibility, has greatly increased your 
means of affecting other natures, — the impulse of self- 
love has not naturally been repressed ; and unless your 
vanity and your pride are under the continual check 
of Divine grace, their demands will be more exacting 
as time goes on ; and thus (unless true piety has kept 
your heart both tender and vigilant) you will be too 
much occupied with yourself to observe what effect 
you have upon younger companions, too careful of 
your own immunity from annoyance to notice how far 
they are protected from keen sorrows. 

It is a deplorable abuse of blessings dearly won 

when thus the vantage ground secured to us by time, 
9 



134 SELF-LOVE. 

and necessarily unattainable for those who are much 
younger, is used for selfish ease, or occupied as a com- 
manding height on which all the weapons of feminine 
irritability can be exercised safe from proportionate 
resistance. If anything short of Divine help could 
preserve one from the blindness of egotism, we might 
trust to common generosity for saving a woman from 
this sort of unfairness ; but unhappily we do all pity 
ourselves so deeply under the least provocation of 
temper or pride, that it is possible to make another 
person perfectly miserable for several days together 
and yet to feel ourselves the only objects of pity — • 
victims without a suspicion of being tormentors. 

And without at all deserving so harsh a name, I am 
afraid we may often cause in young hearts a great 
deal more pain than we are aware of, but of which we 
may form some guess if we can recall the formidable 
meaning that was once found in severe looks and 
abrupt or short answers, and how we shrunk from 
anything caustic in speech, or rough and displeased in 
manner. In reaching mature age we have probably 
lost sight of its comparative dignity, as utterly as we 



SELF-LOVE. 135 

may lose the feeling of elevation when arrived at the 
top of a gradually sloped ascent ; but to tliose below 
us it still appears an elevation, and the light mist that 
rests there is noticed from the far off valley ; it seems 
a cloud from a distant point of view. It would be 
well-judged kindness sometimes to make allowance 
for these effects of distance on a younger mind, and 
always to keep in memory that it is as easy as 
breathing to inflict what younger companions find 
it very hard to bear. From the want of sympathy, 
these suffer more than is often imagined, even with 
the aid of reflection : it may be true 

" That a young child's woe or mirth, 
Is the loneliest thing on earth," 

but certainly the young girl's melancholy is very 
lonely too. She is expected to be so happy; she 
hears so much of the joy of girlhood, she often feels 
so little ! and just when first conscious of immense 
capacities for love, and action, and vivid enjoyment, 
she may look around her on either side of a narrow 
and secluded path, and find little or none answerable 



136 SELF-LOVE. 

to the expectations that have been raised within : add 
to these deficiencies, real or imaginary, the surprise 
and condemnation of those to whom she tries to open 
the burden of her grief and disappointment, and I 
think you will not treat her complaints with the 
slighting airs of incredulous superiority. 

Hunger for the excitements of imaginative feelings 
is not always the sickly growth of young-ladyish 
indolence ; it is an instinct which in some natures 
ceases not to clamor for satisfaction, or for even the 
semblance of it, from earliest childhood to the confines 
of apathetic age : occupation, ever the best earthly 
friend to such natures, may silence it for long intervals, 
but now and then, as long as the heart beats, it will 
sigh for some individual object worthy of self-devotion. 

How much this life-long impulse may agitate even 
a child I can myself testify, exposing myself willingly 
to any degree of ridicule which such an admission 
may invite. I do not know whether the memory of 
other people who played alone during rather a solitary 
childhood will illustrate my meaning; certainly the 
nineteenth-century child, whom Punch describes as 



SELF-LOVE. 137 

weeping because her doll was made of bran, might 
once have found a responsive whine in my heart. 

I remember that, as a child of ten and eleven years 
old, a game of dolls has given me many a true heart- 
ache ; for, having striven to make the poor puppets 
the objects of deep affection, and seeing them still 
motionless, and still mimicking an unrealised life, 
looking like companionship, but standing silent as 
furniture, I have impatiently turned from my toys, 
sighing with momentary wretchedness. Such an 
account of child's play has so much the air of exag- 
geration, that I do not expect it to be believed : it is 
true nevertheless. 

If such a case is exceptional, as I believe, and 
morbid, — proof of an ill-regulated mind, and deserving 
blame more than pity on the score of discontent, — it 
is not the less important that it should be wisely and 
tenderly treated. 

Each person is accountable for the use she makes 
of her own experience. What I have known and 
witnessed of languid disappointment in the very begin- 
ning of a long pursuit of shadows, has inclined me to 



138 SELF-LOVE. 

great commiseration for those who at any age undergo 
the same : and were there but two or three in our 
country who feel as I felt in girlhood, for those two 
or three I would speak at the risk of being called 
very fanciful, and very injudicious, by happier 
souls. 

Now in using the expression a pursuit of shadows^ I 
speak of the witch " Falsehope" in a way that I should 
not think it wise or kind to speak if my remarks 
were addressed to the young. 

It appears to me rather worse than useless to meet 
a craving for happiness by earnest assurances that it 
is never to be found in the direction where it is 
instinctively sought : for if this was without exception 
true, (which it is not.) it is a truth which only the 
teaching of God's word, and the manifestation of God's 
will can prepare the human mind to receive. 

To moderate hope, not to quench it ; to lead the 
heart gently towards its only stable rest, not to raise 
an outcry at its folly in trying to find a solace else- 
where ; is surely more humane, and more in accord 
ance with the mild patience of our Lords instructions, 



SELF-LOVE. 139 

The hoj)es of this world may have cheated some of 
us too often to be able to cheat us again ; but, 

" Puisque la menteuse esperance 
N'a plus de conte a nous conter," 

let us not forget that, however dull and flat life in its 
uncolored realities may now appear to us, it is in the 
highest degree interesting to younger beings. 

These very hours that slide along so sluggishly in 
the even current of our lives are critical to them, even 
now they may be encountering the first storms of pas- 
sion, and it is also too possible — the darkness of a cruel 
despair. 

Oh! turn awhile from older troubles, forget the 
penury of an unhopeful heart, and do all a woman can 
to soothe and guide and encourage these poor unhappy 
children. But when drawing arguments of comfort 
from your own experience, beware lest you allow 
yourself the expression of pent-in murmurs. If the 
bitterness of unappeased wishes steals in, how will you 
be able to persuade the passionate heart that the con- 
solations of God are not small with you ? Will they 



140 SELF-LOVE. 

think your submission anything more than nominal, 
if there is an accent of exasperation in your tone, or 
the traces of unsleeping regret in your sad recital ? 

Ovrino; to the weakness of our faith, regrets cannot 
always die with hope : they may struggle within till 
death quiets them, but let them be prisoners for life, 
and only known to God. 

Against an opposite danger people of firmer mould, 
or less versed in sorrow, will have to guard, if they 
mean their dealings with a distempered spirit to be as 
serviceable as they are well meant. These advisers 
must refrain from making too hot a charge against 
melancholy, on the ground of its being sentimental 
and delusive : they must not for a moment forget that 
in regard to feelings, actual truth is weak compared to 
what seems truth. ; and in combating false appeara:/.-: - 
they must try skill and tenderness rather than energe- 
tic declamation, for suffering is not the less real because 
it originates in error. But it requires some stretch of 
imagination to act as if we believed this, when trying 
to refute the errors of another, and that a younger 
mind. 



SELF-LOVE. 141 

" A wretched soul bruis'd with adversity 
We bid be quiet when vre hear it cry." 

And all the more naturally from not seeing the ad* 
versity that makes the young squI plaintive. When 
a young girl is suspected of making miseries, it is 
very usual strictly to prohibit books that paint similar 
sorrow either in prose or verse, vrith the notion that 
such reading fosters the morbid tendency. I think 
that this is a plausible error of which we should do 
well to disabuse ourselves. "Ungliick," says Borne, 
"ist Dunkelheit. TTem man die Gestalt seiner 
Schmerzen zeigt, dem zeigt man deren Grenzen." 
(Unhappiness is darkness. To whomsoever one snows 
the image of his pain, to him one shows its limits.) 
To find a delineation of our own sorrows in the words 
of a fellow-sufferer is, I believe, at any age a cordial. 
Timid rulers, timid advisers, and compromising 
friends, are too apt to fancy that evil and sorrow can 
be silenced into forgetfulness. Dickens has not 
unfairly represented the effects of this fancy in his 
Little Dorrit: there are many kind and excellent 
people in the world who, with some modilications / 



142 SELF-LOVE. 

adopt Mrs. General's line of action* as the best and 
safest they know. History tells us how this opinion 
affects nations ; biography how vain and calamitous 
it sometimes proves ; and our own experience may 
possibly give similar witness to its inefficacy ; why 
then persist in the shortsighted plan of non-recogni- 
tion ? It is, perhaps, easier than any other to carry 
out ; so is almost every bad thing. The real friend 
ventures to undergo much in order to gain a little 
confidence, a little heart intercourse with a troubled 
spirit, knowing that, without sympathy, advice is 
only another source of pain. 

I think that all middle-aged people should be very 
careful how they apply ridicule to what seems absurd, 

* " Her way of forming a mind was to prevent it from form- 
ing opinions Even her propriety coulcl not dispute 

that there was impropriety in the world ; but Mrs. General's 
way of getting rid of it was to put it out of sight, and make 
believe that there was no such thing. This was another of her 
ways of forming a mind ; — to cram all articles of difficulty into 
cupboards, lock them up, and say they had no existence ; it was 
the easiest way, and beyond all comparison the properest." — 
Little Dorrii, bk. n. ch. ii. 



SELF-LOVE. 143 

excessive, and overstrained in the feelings and ex- 
pressions of the young ; nothing more natural than to 
feel amusement at the exhibition of follies, which we 
have ourselves outlived; we smile to see the com- 
pleteness of pleasing delusions, and the magnanimous 
exaltation of thought, that arises from contemplating 
principles as they appear in theory, unalloyed by the 
incongruities of practical experiments; nor is our 
amusement without some mixture of regret and self- 
aversion ; an involuntary comparison of one's present 
self, cold suspicions, calculating upon failure, with 
the confident creature it once was, when flushed by 
early hope and untried energy. 

This gives to our conversation "some relish of the 
saltness of time, :? a little bitterness to our tone of 
remark; and the slight sarcasm which escapes us, 
though fully as much aimed at the beings we once 
were, as at what our hearers now are, touches them 
with a sthiging sharpness, Now they cannot possibly 
sympathise with us by anticipation, but by memory 
we can retrace the effects on ourselves of anything 
like a sarcastic or sneering observation, when we were 



144: SELF-LOVE. 

too young to defend the object assailed with, due 
composure. 

We can surely remember how extremely annoying 
it was to be hurled from some lofty castle in the air, 
that we had joyfully built up, by a few cutting words 
of irresistible good sense. It was probably a useful 
fall, but it may have left a bruise even to this day. 

And again, can any one forget the blank discon- 
solate feeling with which we then heard our cherished 
schemes for doing good laughed at as too Quixotic 
to be for a moment entertained ? How cold the world 
seemed, with all its Roasted prudence! How un- 
desirable the process 6f " a little reasonable reflection, " 
if it ended in so many negations ! Nor should we in 
fairness overlook the possibility of age being ridi- 
culously inactive and unhopeful, and youth not always 
so far wrong in its urgency and ambition. 

When any one's tone of mind, in middle age, is 
continually adapted to lower hope and discourage 
confidence, I suspect that its own deficiency is sadder 
and of worse tendency than the excess of youthful 
enthusiasm. A useful hint has been lately thrown 



SELF-LOVE. 14E 

out, with regard to a nation now far advanced in pro- 
gressive civilisation : " The unheroic character of most 
men's minds, with their consequent intolerance of 
that heroic which they cannot understand, is con- 
stantly at work, and not seldom with success, in 
taking down works of nobleness from their high 
pitch ; and, as the most effectual way of doing this, 
in casting an air of mock-heroic about them." The 
only comment I shall venture to make is this ; are 
women generally inclined to an heroic turn of thought 
between thirty and fifty? Are they not too much 
given, in many cases, to a mocking and bantering 
style of conversation, which must often amaze the 
young, and wound susceptibilities not yet acclimatised 
to this world's atmosphere ? Let them take care what 
they do : unawares they may help to quench a fire, 
which nothing will again re-kindle : they may blight 
many a germ of good promise ; and make the world 
poorer than it is already in hope and love and fervent 
zeal, because they refuse to believe in the remedial 
force of these rare and heavenly gifts. Let us attend 
to this vehement and accusing cry against opinion^ 



146 



SELF-LOVE. 



and ask ourselves if we have never added our hand 
ful of highway dust to the aspirations of another mind ? 

1 All ! who can tell 
How vast a sum of good thou hast blown away 
With thy fool's breath ; how oft. when souls have yearned 
To do some good which reason prompted it. 
Opinion hath looked cold upon that warmth. 
Blighting it in the bud ; or else hath worn 
So very a 1 withering devil in its sneer/ 
That virtue hath shrunk back from manly intent 
To silly childhood ; fearing to do well. 
Lest men should construe it ill; taking for judge, 
'Stead of its proper conscience that knows all, 
The vulgar who know nothing. 

• ; Yea. poverty 
Of money and means, of knowledge and of will, 
Hath chilled some souls : hundreds, thousands perhaps, 
Their lofty aspirations to forego ; 
But thou hast stifled many millions ; 
Stifled them vrith the common highway dust, 
Flinging it in their eyes, and mouths, and ears, 
That they should neither see, nor hear, nor speak, 
Save thy own stuff." 

Ernest, bk. vtil 



SELF-LOVE. 



147 



CHAPTER VIII. 

" Rien n'etouffe plus la doctrine que de mettre a toutes les choses 
une robe de doeteur. Les gens qui veulent toujours enseigner 
empechent beaucoup d'apprendre." — Montesquieu's Defense de 
V Esprit des Lois. 

Your position in the esteem of young people is of so 
great importance, that I shall still farther tax your 
patience, by prolonging inquiry into the best means 
of securing to them the advantage to be derived from 
older companions, and to you the blessedness of giving 
help at a time when, though it is most needed, it is 
most unlikely to be sought. 

Towards the vanity of your younger friends, I 
should expect you to be particularly severe, if you 
were once as vain, because there is nothing more 
displeasing to us than the sin which has stamped ita 
lines of fruitless care on our own brow ; we regard it 
with loathing. 

There is too much of it in our hearts even now, 



148 SELF-LOVE. 

an b to meet i: in smiling favor eisewheie rouses 
both pity and indignation. But how shall we turn 
these to helpful account? Surely not by a sharp onset 
of admonition ; much less by strong reprobation of 
2 art: mlar instances of vanity: for thns encountered, 
the enemy would only retreat to unapproachable 
fastnesses, and very probably cover itself with artifice 
also. Neither can I think that an unceasing vigi- 
lance over the" words and looks and manners of 
another will serve as any check upon dangerous 
emotions: for not only is "le regard scrutaieur'' in 
tloo highest degree injurious and paralysing, but it is 
quite possible to intensify- vanity by too strict a sys- 
tem of repression : indeed, it is very commonly done; 
and girlish folly, that might nave taken its natural 
course and soon exhausted itself without much harm 
to anything but momentary dignity, has been often so 
powerfully opposed and thrown back into the con- 
stitution, as to keep up a regular supply of poisonous 
influence for life. I should therefore crave, for every 
young girl, a certain allowance of toleration for the 
little weaknesses and vanities that are as natural to 



SELF-LOVE. 149 

her as playing at horses and soldiers is to a boy; 
and I should petition, if I were able, for an absolute 
silence on the part of older companions, about these 
same little vanities ; such, for example, as wishing to 
wear a prettier dress than usual, when some pleasant 
visitor was expected. Again, it is not wicked, but 
very natural for a girl to be a little impressed by the 
common polite attentions of one who she thinks 
may possibly turn out to be the all-important hero 
of her life : if we who look on do not think as she 
does about him and his little civilities, that is not 
surely any reason for severe animadversions on her 
folly. It is not any proof that she will always think 
people* are occupied with her, when they are suffi- 
ciently indifferent to be extremely ingratiating ; and 
if she mistakes manner now, and is weaving a ro- 
mance out of meaningless incidents at an evening 
party, might we not find in our hearts some better 
means for enlightening guileless innocence, than vexa- 
tious strictures, and sour chilling looks ? I am per- 
suaded that many do find the wisest and most gentle 

mode of giving help in this particular, and I think 
10 



150 SELF-LOVE. 

that they are probably the humblest minded women, 
who have learned practically to mistrust themselves 
when reproving ; who think it possible that asperity 
of rebuke may arise from some of 

" that indignant fuss 
Hypocrite pride stirs up in us 
To bully out another's guilt." 

They remember also their own first suspicions of 
being singled out for admiration or for love, — they 
know that though they call themselves old and laid 
by, the possibility of accepting love or admiration 
did not die out as soon as some would suppose ; nor 
would they be angered with the candid admission of a 
graceful German novelist, who allows the wisest man 
in her story to say, " Ah ! do not teach me to under- 
stand women ! a little worship they all take in very 
easily ; they have always a little throne in readiness, 
which they draw out at once, and mount in such 
cases ouickly enough/' 

But those who would be most skilful in dealing 

I 

with vanity, might not treat the intellectual errors of 



SELF-LOVE. 151 

the young with, equal success. I allude to those 
errors which cannot directly affect conduct, and are 
only mischievous in their remote consequences ; only 
blamable when supported by pride and a love of 
opposition. 

Perceiving habits of thought of equivocal or even 
hurtful nature, we are often too much alarmed to set 
about meeting them in the most advisable manner ; 
and yet, perhaps, in nine cases out of ten, this alarm 
is itself an error of judgment which may lead to 
serious mistakes ; for, be it never forgotten, in early 
life an energetic mind must be a questioning and a 
restless mind. 

It is the season of conflict when principles and 
opinions vehemently contend in a spirit very little 
acquainted with itself. If now and then a false prin- 
ciple, or an undesirable opinion seems to gain the 
mastery, let by-standers have a little patience before 
they step in to complicate difficulties, by drawing 
pride and obstinacy into action among the other ele- 
ments of discord ; for with very rare exceptions, aber- 
rations from the line of thought, prescribed by a care- 



152 SELF-LOVE. 

ful religious teaching, are seldom of long continuance, 
and, like many other internal commotions, the ferment 
of thought -will subside if not kept up by external 
interference. And this temporary ferment is often a 
sign of health, — a proof of strong powers which will 
hold truth with a firmer grasp after the exercise of 
wrestling with shadows. Perhaps few of us can see 
the full verification of Schiller's assertion, "We but 
seldom arrive at truth otherwise than through 
extremes ; we must first exhaust error, and often non- 
sense, before we work up to the fair mark of peaceful 
wisdom;" but it does not escape the observation of 
some thoughtful minds, devotedly valiant for orthodox 
truth : and if I do not mistake, such observers would 
justify my dislike to a frequent use of restrictive mea- 
sures, when it is our object to bring back a young 
thinker from an unsafe track. 

In these days of undaunted inquiry, restrictions 
imposed on thought seem to me even more useless 
than dogmatic rules for right feeling ; for to forbid any 
train of thought, any subject of speculation, is to give 
it a hold on the attention which nothing else could. 



SELF-LOVE. 153 

The most docile mind knows this — much more wiU 
one headstrong with new acquisitions of truth refuse 
to attempt a suspension of thought on subjects that 
interest it deeply. 

To say reading such a book, or cherishing such a 
peculiarity of opinion has certain dangers, and if 
exclusively dwelt upon it will hazard your soul's 
health, is at all times safe : but rigidly to refuse a 
hearing to doubts, to try and draw down the blinds 
of another intellect at the approach of every opinion 
apparently hostile to faith, is to awaken in any vigor- 
ous thinker the uncomfortable suspicion that this 
much honored faith is an invalid, not far from a pre- 
carious state of weakness ; for, if it were strong, and 
pure, and constantly nourished with the dew of hea 
venly grace, how could it need this apprehensive care, 
this complete shelter from every breath that may be 
inimical ? If the slightest acquaintance with the pre- 
tensions of " vain doctrine " would so much endanger 
our religion, can it be really of Divine origin ? 

Is the certainty of the words of truth" onlv to be 

t/ j 

maintained by shutting out everything whereby we 



151 



SELF-LOVE. 



may test their powers ? This is what passes in the 
minds of many young men, and some young women 
too, when they are striving to attain absolute truth. 
I suppose it is certain that young people in the pre- 
sent day are more given to abstract thought than the 
majority of educated minds in an older generation. 
This should make us very cautious in our attempts to 
put down erroneous opinions ; for, on our side, a 
strong and settled faith is not most wisely evinced by 
the incessant warnings off from debateablo ground to 
which anxious affection often inclines us ; and, seeing 
that there is so much positive sin from which the 
young Christian must be urged to flee, it appears to 
me highly imprudent to restrain, exclude, and forbid, 
where the error is intellectual and the danger theo- 
retic. I am not overlooking the fact, that hardly any 
error in belief is entertained without fruitfully affect- 
ing conduct in the long run ; but, when inquiring for 
the best method of dislodging error, I learn that it is 
not found in the use of perpetual remonstrance ; this 
heats the temper long before it convinces the mind. 
It is a humiliating consideration, that in all our 



SELF-LOVE. 155 

efforts to aid other people, unless we are very watch- 
ful against self-deceit, we may be gratifying our pride 
at their expense. " L'ame goute tant de delices a 
dominer les autres ames ; ceux memes qui aiment le 
bien aiment si fort eux-memes, qu'il n'y a personne 
qui ne soit assez malheureux pour avoir encore a se 
defier de ses bonnes intentions, et en verite nos actions 
tiennent a tant de choses qu'il est mille fois plus aise 
de faire le bien que de le bien faire." * This is what 
all should bear in mind when they wish to help 
younger aspirants for truth and goodness. The con- 
victions of mature age seem very well based, and 
have often a compactness of symmetry (partly owing 
to the rejection of unmanageable difficulties) which 
gives them respectability and weight in our own 
minds ; and we are surprised, sometimes horrified, to 
find them disputed : but pray let us remember that we 
are at all ages alike scholars in a school immeasurably 
vast, all taught by an Infinite Mind ; and, as we still 
sit in a class very low compared with that which we 
hope to reach hereafter, how do we know that to dis- 
* Montesquieu's Esprit dcs Lois. 



156 SELF-LOVE. 

ciples in a class but a little lower the Omniscient 
Teacher may not vouchsafe some communications of 
light that cannot reach our eyes, just because we are 
blinded by proud presumption, and say in our hearts, 
" We see." 

If the younger mind is more conscious of its own 
ignorance, more open to receive undetermined truths, 
and more eager to catch every intimation of the 
marvels of spiritual life, it is better prepared for the 
secret influx of that light which is to spread and grow 
through eternity ; such a mind will not, I think, be 
deficient in reverence, nor so far from entertaining 
Elihu's notion, that " multitude of years should teach 
wisdom," as the majority of our juniors seem to be. 

Judging by the tone of manners in the present day, 
these new-comers into society feel no fear that can 
restrain them from showing their opinion among those 
who are much older, and possibly much wiser, than 
they ; indeed, the only scruple which seems to trouble 
some of them in conversation with their seniors is a 
doubt whether they do enough to set these prejudiced 
old people right. It must be confessed that there is 



SELF-LOVE. 157 

often a striking want of humility in the young learner ; 
but, even when it is lacking to an absurd extent, I 
believe time will do more to teach it than any expo- 
sure of shallowness which a superior mind might effect. 
For humility is sometimes best learned by contact 
with humble long-suffering gentleness ; and to disturb 
the intellect by any unnecessary trial of temper greatly 
retards its progress towards a healthy condition ; with 
humility and love for your counsellors you may be of 
incalculable sendee ; not only may you help to abate 
presumption and rectify false estimates, but also, when 
faults or sufferings arise from a different cause, you 
may be able to detect in the wayward or petulant 
mood of a young friend the true source of disquiet ; 
and, having discovered it without remark, may find 
out the way to soothe and give it remedy. Perhaps 
some form of superstitious observance in religious 
matters, self-imposed and carefully concealed, is at 
the bottom of much that appears so contrary to 
religion; some harassing scruple may be there cor- 
roding peace ; even the intellect may have turned 
against itself, and may be at this time 



158 



SELF-LOVE. 



" all manacled, 
Halt, wither' d, blind, perplex' d with chafing doubts, 
Haggard with fears, hoodwink' d from Heaven's free light." 

You feel powerless to relieve such, trouble, but pity 
and attempted sympathy will be of some avail ; 
perhaps you can introduce the sufferer to "a good 
probable doctor," either amongst books or living 
acquaintance; it may be given to you to speak a 
word in due season, and, better than all these uncer- 
tainties, you will have a cause to bring before a com- 
passionate Intercessor, and with earnest prayer you 
can beseech. Him to grant His peace to the disturbed 
and wavering mind. 

"It is a glorious thing to have been the repairer of 
a decayed intellect, and a sub- worker to grace;" may 
you find it to be so according to your measure of 
ability ! 

Now in order to secure an approach to the confi- 
dence of younger people, it is necessary to practise no 
little denial of our own tastes, to give no slight atten- 
tion to theirs. To speak plainly, there is something 
very distasteful in the conceit of inexperienced 



SELF-LOVE 159 

people, and calling it natural to them does not make 
impatience of its effects less natural to us : but even 
our selfishness should suffice to check any caustic 
expression of this impatience ; for if one thing more 
than another fortifies pride and establishes conceit, it 
is an evident solicitude on the part of another person 
to take them down; a systematic process of snub- 
bing may crush their out-growth; but, unless I am 
much deceived, it will never subdue, or even lessen, 
their pretensions in the heart of an adolescent. I 
have taken it for granted that you would wish to 
affect the inner life favorably ; of course, if you 
should prefer to distance the offender by fear or dis- 
like, nothing is easier; you have but to speak or 
look with habitual contempt on the anxious vanities 
and transparent vainglory of youth ; you need only 
forget that young people have not yet been able to 
take their true measure, and to establish their just 
claims in society, and must naturally wish to do so, and 
you will be saved from too much intimacy with them. 

Kinder hearts do not always restrict their good 
intentions to making improvements within^ they may 
be eager to soften and equalise manners also; on 



160 SELF-LOVE. 

this point I refrain from saying much, so strongly 
does my own way of thinking oppose general custom. 
Believing that nearly all which is good in ladylike 
manners must arise from within, I deplore the 
minute and fretting attention commonly bestowed on 
superficial politeness. A good carriage and suitable 
deportment may be taught, but manners in a wider 
sense should surely be the true expression of a 
disciplined nature, not its veil, nor its fetters, as in so 
many well-bred women we know it to be. As to the 
politeness of individuals, its conditions are the same 
as those Custine has described as requisite for the 
politeness of a nation. "In order," he says, "to be 
polite, it is necessary to have something to give. 
Politeness is the art of doing to others the honors of 
the advantages we possess, whether of our minds, our 
riches, our rank, or our standing. To be polite is to 
know how to offer and accept with grace, but when a 
person has nothing certain of his own, he cannot give 
anything." 

When we complain of imperfection in the politeness 
of youth, let us in fairness allow that their social 
advantages, if not few, are at least ill-ascertained. 



SELF-LOVE. 



161 



CHAPTER IX. 

11 If what we do or suffer be not with relation to the common good, 
we forget our interest and lose our thanks ; and ifj in our undertakings, 
we find a certain self stand in the way of our public ends, he must be 
shouldered out or trampled upon if ever we expect a comfortable 
issue." — Bishop Hall's Peace-Maker. 

I ha ye not yet done with, the social interests of an 
unmarried woman, though while considering her 
chances of doing good service in counteracting exces- 
sive luxury, and in lessening the various perplexities 
of early life, I have rambled far from her own pecu- 
liar trials. This diversion of thought is not, I trust, 
only incident to a writer's brain. I persuade myself 
that if once any woman of average selfishness saw that 
she could certainly do good, she would gladly set aside 
all melancholy measurements of her own privation ; 
and, from my point of view, her opportunities of doing 
good seem so certain and so manifold, that I am 
embarrassed by the wealth of means from which I 



162 



SELF-LOVE. 



must choose, when trying to prove the happiness of 
spinsterhood. 

" I wish," says Lavater, " to make you feel what hap- 
piness and glory there is in being what we are" 

These words will not sound like pride to those who 
share my notions of woman's happiness and woman's 
glory ; who think with me that her happiness is in 
the power of loving, her glory in ability to serve. I 
do not deny that a woman forfeits great happiness 
while she remains lonely in heart, and in the aims of 
her life ; she must often feel the dreariness of isolation, 
when there is no one " to occupy the place which the 
whole world leaves empty, and the greatest wealth of 
one's own cannot fill up." There may be anguish in 
the thought, and sometimes a passion of regret, not — 
let the world say what it will — that married life had 
been refused, or never offered, but that none could 
have been accepted with any probability of finding 
that perfect union without which it would be, to many 
hearts, most perfect misery. But while women who 
feel this are shedding bitter tears for their own loss, 
souls are being ruined for whom they might grieve 



SELF-LOVE. 



163 



with better reason, and care with some beneficial 
result ; and, for any of us who would win a glorious 
reward hereafter, there is not time to mourn over 
transient troubles ; the evils against w^hich we must 
make head need the full power of an undivided mind. 
When we see the sad faces that gaze out of every 
crowd of human beings, we feel that there is indeed a 
want of enlarged sympathies, a use for reservoirs of 
kindness, and tender pity, and consequent prayer, not 
exclusively claimed by several united hearts. The 
calm life of every single woman, undisturbed by the 
inevitable anxieties of married people, might afford a 
contribution to this desirable fund of catholic love. 
Not unfrequently it is found that the sorrow which 
has entirely broken down all the embankments of a 
woman's private happiness leads to a great enlarge- 
ment of heart, giving her instead of a few strong 
affections, a few absorbing personal interests, love and 
interest as wide and lasting as her country and her 
race. The self which was bereaved of its own dearest 
hopes often adopts, and by degrees delights in adopt- 
ing, the hope of public good ; but, since this is only 



164 



SELF-LOVE. 



possible where there is native greatness of mind, we 
must not expect such, blessed consequences of trial 
from other people, and should be very thankful if we 
find them in ourselves. 

Yet I can believe that an increasing desire to do 
good and to relieve unhappiness will cause some 
women to suffer almost as acutely as they ever did 
from their own peculiar cross ; nay more so, in so far 
as this, that personal suffering has the limits of per 
sonal feeling, and sympathetic distress has no such 
boundary, and is often heightened by the darkest tints 
of imagination. If sympathetic grief were not neces- 
sarily short-lived, and transient in proportion to its 
intensity, I doubt if its force could be always equalled 
by the sorrow that presses on oneself alone, though 
perhaps there is some balm from inward self-compla- 
cency, when grief is unselfish. 

" Che, quando deriva 
Da nobile affetto, 
Ha qualche diletto 
Lo stesso dolor." 



Among the most trying disquietudes of a single 



SELF-LOVE. 16c 

life, I reckon the necessity of being often a witness of 
evils that from your irresponsible position you cannot 
even try to remove ; evils which it is possibly youi 
duty to ignore, your kindest effort to overlook; 
and yet the reflective leisure of your life has caused 
you both to measure these evils and their results with 
lively apprehension, and to perceive the line of con- 
duct that would probably lead to their removal or 
mitigation, if wisely carried out by those most nearly 
concerned. 

It is sometimes very difficult to remain passive, 
when every impulse prompts you to activity, and 
when the resolve not to interfere is shaken by the 
thought, that those who are blind to their best interests 
will suffer from non-interference. And yet this non- 
interference is often a more certain duty than any 
volunteered help for which it would be sacrificed ; 
and I hardly need remind you that, in this as in every 
other contingency, 

u Because right is right, to follow right 
Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence 

no one being able to count upon consequent advan 
11 



166 



SELF-LOVE. 



tages, when the least part of known duty is neglected, 
and duty, not consequences, being all tliat concerns a 
faithful servant. 

On the other hand, we may thankfully remember 
that the unmarried spectator of domestic troubles has 
some decided advantages which she may turn to good 
account for their relief, if she does not pervert them to 
means of giving annoyance : she has a cool disengaged 
eye for what passes around her, and the little flaws that 
she may criticise with minute attention are often those 
which the mistress of the household regrets quite as 
much as her fastidious companion, but which she has 
been hurried into allowing by a press of small cares, 
and by the continual embarrassments of her previous 
designs. When this is the case, the single woman 
should study how to give the gentlest and most 
unobtrusive help, for then to entrench herself and her 
disapproval in unbending non-interference is nothing 
less than cruel. 

The anxieties of married life are many and great; 
a kind-hearted woman will consider that the happiest 
wife, the most healthy mother, is not without some 



SELF-LOVE. 167 

claims upon the solicitude of her friends, and perhaps 
upon their pity too. 

Knowing the probability of these claims, I think 
that a merciful woman will be watchful to discover, 
and ready to use, many little opportunities of giving 
assistance to the busy matron : in times of trouble 
she will feel for her tenderly, but not with that use- 
less kind of sympathy which it is so natural for 
gentle people to yield themselves up to, that of being 
thoroughly uncomfortable, merely because they can- 
not in any other way take part in the trials they 
witness. 

There is always some unrelished occupation that 
may devolve upon a willing coadjutor ; in default of 
every other, the dullest branch of family correspon- 
dence will often be gladly conceded. (I do not 
apologise to you for such an unwelcome hint, because 
I now speak of women whose joy is placed far above 
selfish gratification.) If these uncoveted parts of 
family business are pleasantly accepted, and if, when 
done, no thanks or gratitude is expected, because 
.such aid is too frequently and too quietly given to be 



168 SELF-LOVE. 

honored as a rare benefit, I will answer for it that 
they will help to make the doer happy, simply be- 
cause she can thus promote happiness or lessen diffi- 
culties. 

On the ground of self-preservation, it behoves every 
unmarried woman to find some harmless mode of 
doing active service ; for, if she is without it, she 
inevitably becomes the prey of her own egotism, 
especially if she is exposed to the pernicious influence 
of a very secluded life, as certainly dangerous to 
spiritual health, as the miasma of standing water to 
health of the body. 

Almost all faults of manner in an amiable person 
unused to much variety of life are the result of her 
powers being but half awakened ; a woman who is 
torpid and chilling, and full of herself in general, will 
often become another creature if once her energies are 
fairly roused. 

When we say of any one, " She is equal to any 
emergency," do we not unconsciously imply that a 
life which rarely offers any occasion for strenuous 
action is sadly unequal to her abilities ? and when 



SELF-LOVE. 169 

this is so, must not languishing and sorrow be fre- 
quent if not habitual ? I believe it is not saying too 
much for my sex to say that most women are found 
in times of need equal to any exertion to which 
womanly duty can call them ; but, without that 
stimulus, alas ! how aimless, how drooping and em- 
bittered, is the life of many women ! A piteous but 
an instructing spectacle is often before us in such 
unhappy lives; we see the efforts of each soul to 
make up for deficiency, felt if not acknowledged, 
by some excess of virtuous activity: for, as a tree 
will stretch out long branches on one sheltered side 
when harsh winds have dwarfed it on the other, so the 
nature that is cramped in one direction, and fails in 
the performance of one sort of duty, frequently exag- 
gerates the importance of another, and therefore over- 
does it; this appears to me to be the cause of much 
that we lament as inconsistency in the conduct of 
women to whom fate has assigned more leisure than 
married people can often command. In slight charac- 
ters we may find aged vanity trying to deceive itself 
with dreams, drawn from an unfaithful memory, of 



170 



SELF-LOVE. 



triumphs never tasted, but desired still ; while at the 
same time, piety is sincere, and resignation complete : 
for the inner life is hallowed by pure religion, though 
all that bears upon social habits is enfeebled by life- 
long frivolity ; and when frivolity becomes, so to 
speak, out of date, there is of necessity much morti- 
fication for it in society, and the poor creature flies 
back from her follies to devotional strongholds, with 
the painful conviction that she is rejected and humili- 
ated by people who do not know the depth of her 
piety. Well for her, if by this means she is not 
driven to that state of unbalanced religious excite- 
ment which (whatever party it adheres to) is, in 
her own opinion, a renouncing of the world; in the 
opinion of calmer minds, folly combining with reli- 
gious aspirations, a state which the holiest spirits 
would deplore; for assuredly, "3tre au dessus de 
soi-m6me en l'oraison, et au dessous de soi en la 
vie et rop6ration," does no good to the soul, and 
no little harm to the cause of religion. 

In another kind of character there is sometimes the 
commoner inconsistency of fine talking and feeble 



SELF-LOVE. 171 

acting ; talking, I mean, from theory without regard 
to practical hindrances, and from theory unrealised in 
daily life. 

Could those whose energies thus run into dispro- 
portion find some object for active service, it would 
bring their thoughts and feelings, as well as their deeds, 
into a more wholesome condition. " How beautiful 
is noble sentiment, like gossamer gauze, beautiful and 
cheap, which will stand no wear and tear ! Beautiful 
cheap gossamer gauze, thou film of a raw material of 
virtue, which, art not woven, nor likely to be, into 
duty; thou art better than nothing and also worse !" 
This is Carlyle's rough, warning, to which he adds a 
practical advice : " Not by outbursts of noble senti- 
ment, but with far other ammunition shall a man front 
the world. But how wise in all cases to husband 
your fire, to keep it down rather as genial, radical 
heat!" 

Perhaps woman's energy now runs to waste most 
commonly by devoting overmuch time and talk to the 
interests of literature, and too little to her own : 
whereas, to speak honestly, both would be better 



172 



SELF-LOVE. 



served if she gave herself more often the pleasure of 
an hour or two of gardening, or a wood ramble, or a 
canter for several miles, solely for the sake of air and 
exercise, and the good-humor that naturally accompa- 
nies a prosperous physique. It is surely unnecessary for 
all women to be literary, " weil es nicht jedermann's 
Sache ist sich zu Ideen zu erkeben," (because it is not 
every one's business to raise himself to ideas,) and 
certainly not every woman's, however great the num- 
ber of books she reads ; " for many heads that under- 
take it were never squared nor timbered for it." And 
even those women whose heads are " squared and 
timbered" for great mental exertion must not, for the 
sake of those heads , subject them to any prolonged strain. 

I shall not be suspected of underrating the advan- 
tage of women's minds being cultivated, but, consider 
ing that the softer virtues are avowedly indispensable, 
let me be pardoned for repeating to women the ques- 
tion that Bacon addressed to men : — " Is there not a 
caution likewise to be given of the doctrine of moral- 
ists themselves, some kinds of them, lest they make 
men too precise, arrogant, and incompatible ?" 



SELF-LOVE. 



173 



la some shape or other the question of social reform 
now meets us at every turn. From the abyss of 
misery ever deepening beneath the respectable classes 
of society, terrible facts drift in sight of the most 
indifferent observer ; and the heart which is not pain- 
fully affected by them must indeed be callous, callous 
and insanely selfish too. If, after the lessons of the 
last century, any European can doubt that the pros- 
perity of the highest classes is inseparably related to 
the welfare of the lowest, it is another striking proof 
that sin is spiritual blindness ; that sinning either by 
omission or commission we walk in darkness, and 
know not whither we are going. 

Thank heaven ! an indolent neglect of the poor is 
no longer the common crime of England's wealthy 
people ; with humble desires for increasing charity, I 
think we may gratefully acknowledge that the rich 
and powerful are now for the most part fully 
awakened to a sense of their great responsibilities ; 
and are earnestly endeavoring to afford both spiritual 
and temporal relief to the needy and ignorant. 

The zeal for doing good that now prevails, where 



174 



SELF-LOVE. 



once luxury and self-indulgence corrupted society 
without any clieck from public opinion, may almost 
be called a fashion among us ; and English liberality 
and English vigor have promoted means of doing 
good that a century ago were probably as unimagined 
as our submarine telegraphs and Leviathan steamer. 
But fashion, however well disposed, is not always 
wise or far-sighted ; and it appears to me that in some 
favorite modes of beneficence there has been more 
proof of benevolence than of the wisdom which 
insures success. 

I refer, as one instance of this, to the various 
attempts at sisterhoods which have been made, in 
defiance of national prejudices that are too strongly 
rooted in our national temperament to be prudently 
or successfully withstood : before I go further, I 
should admit that, in spite of all the good which I 
gratefully admit these sisterhoods may have effected, 
I am strongly prejudiced against sisterhoods of any 
description. I am aware that, like Ludwig Borne, 
"Ich hasse jede Gesellschaft die Meiner ist ah die 
Menschliche" (I hate every society that is more limited 



SELF-LOVE. 175 

than human society). An assertion which must of 
course be taken for hyperbole, not in its precise sense. 
Supposing it to be allowed as a fact that for public 
benefit sisterhoods may sometimes be useful ; that here 
individual advantage ought to be sacrificed to the 
good of the common wealth : still, with regard to the 
unmarried women themselves who have money and 
leisure for the service of their fellow-creatures, I do 
not see how they can employ their abilities better than 
among those of their own relations or friends who 
stand in need of help, or comfort, or companionship. 
Nor (with the exception of a few singularly unfortu- 
nate in their natural position) can I imagine any 
woman in the best-ordered sisterhood so advantage- 
ously placed as she who keeps to home duties ; or who, 
in the possible default of these, devotes herself to 
those who have the strongest claim upon her in private 
life. 

For self-denying exercise probably nothing will 
equal this, though such an uncourteous suspicion 
may only be recognised in the depths of the heart. 
Is it to be supposed that adopting particular habits 



176 SELF-LOVE. 

of dress and daily routine, irksome duty at stated 
times, and the inflexible, worrying discipline of a 
female lawgiver, would secure as much variety of 
self-sacrifice as a home where the most teasing kinds 
of duty cannot be foreseen, nor self-chosen, nor 
agreed upon ; and where the very fact of relation- 
ship or friendship makes mutual agreement to 
depend upon good feeling, and not upon the fulfil- 
ment of stipulated terms? The degree of trial 
resulting from either position would of course be 
different to different characters; the affectionate 
nature would prefer all sorts of rubs from privileged 
offenders whoever they may be, to the cold regula- 
rity of a society of unconnected ladies ; and the 
temper of mind that made home life burdensome, 
and home associates as pitiable as they were pro- 
voking, would lead its owner to rejoice in the 
restraints that keep impetuosity within bounds, and 
pride behind a screen. And am I very uncharitable 
because I fear that those who are most ready to find 
new duties in a sisterhood, are too often leaving a 
sphere in which old ones have been grievously 



SELF-LOVE. 



177 



neglected? To judge by the conduct of some of our 
young contemporaries, one would think that in 
choosing this form of self-dedication they had ap- 
plied to their own case the profane sanction of 
Bourdaloue, when he says: u et parce qu'une telle 
resolution est quelquefois sujette, ou par une con- 
sideration de fortune, ou par une affection naturelle, 
a de grande contradiction de la part d'une famille, 
c'est la que lui est non seulement permise mais en 
quelque sorte ordonnee une pieuse durete, pour voir 
sans se troubler le trouble d'un pure et sans s'atten- 
drir les larmes d'une mere." One would hope that 
every English heart must see how impiously such 
words contradict the tenor of the fifth command- 
ment. 

Utterly incredulous as I am of society deriving any 
permanent advantage from the efforts at reform 
made by bands of women who act on a system of 
their own inventing, I still believe that in women 
as they are placed by Providence, the chief instru- 
ment of social amelioration may be found. I believe 
that this must begin in the centre of our own homes^ 



178 



SELF-LOVE. 



and not in penitentiaries and well-organised sister- 
hoods. 

Hasty thinkers may fancy that the manners and 
habits of quiet home circles can have but a slight 
effect upon the mass of evil livers so far removed 
from them ; but is there not reason for thinking that 
in many cases stronger attractions to the home where 
purity and peace spread invisible charms would raise 
the general standard of moral conduct, and diminish 
greatly the number of those who now ruin, betray, or 
in any way encourage vice among their sinful and 
unfortunate fellow-creatures ? Now if the purity of 
our homes is beyond doubt, how do we find them as 
regards peace? Is peace possible among fretful 
tempers, austere monitors, silent contemners of all 
that is blamable and weak ? Can peace be where 
worldliness and bitterness of mind expose the temper 
to an endless variety of vexation ? We know it is 
impossible. Yet every woman is able in some degree 
to reduce the power of these enemies to peace, and 
thereby to increase the strength of virtuous influence 
beyond human calculation ; and for women with all 



SELF-LOVE. 



179 



tlieir susceptibilities of pain to be consistently calm, 
and forbearing, and tender, with open minds and 
lenient judgments, would be, I suppose, quite as 
arduous an exercise of Christian principles, as any 
that may be found in the combined action of a chari- 
table sisterhood. 

I hope I do not underrate the good that has 
actually been done by those women who have given 
themselves to works of self-denying mercy; much 
has been done for love's sake or for conscience' sake, 
that but for them would probably never have been 
done at all ; I only say, why go into a separate house 
to do these things? why not let these good works 
emanate from the house of father, husband, or 
brother, or from one's own, and spring from a 
continual sense of the duty of doing, each of us, 
with Prudence for our handmaid, our very utmost 
to diminish evil in any class to which Providence 
gives us access; to soothe, aid, and cheer all who 
suffer within reach of our help and love ; and this 
not as the fit of compassion may seize us, not from 
feelings however amiable towards our fellow-creatures 



180 SELF-LOVE. 

only, but from gratitude and obedience towards God, 
from the constraining love of that Good Samaritan 
who had pity on us in our tremendous need. 

Surely with such motives there would oe no neces- 
sity for other vows, other circumstances, self-imposed 
and self-chosen, to make our good works serviceable 
in the highest degree to man, and acceptable to God, 
on whose blessing the effect of all our best actions must 
depend. 



SELF-LOVE. 



181 



CHAPTER X. 

* Freedom, in other lands scarce known to shine, 
Pours out a flood of splendor upon thine ; 
Thou hast as bright an int'rest in her rays 
As ever Romans had in Rome's best days. 
True freedom is where no restraint is known 
That Scripture, justice, and good sense disown ; 
Where only vice and injury are tied, 
And all, from shore to shore, is free beside. 

i 'Oh think, if chargeable with deep arrears 
For such indulgence gilding all thy years, 
How much, though long neglected, shining yet 
The beams of heav'nly truth have swelTd the debt." 

Cowper's Expostulation. 

" It is not denied, but gladly confessed, we are to send our thanks and 
vows to Heaven louder than most of nations for that great measure of 
truth which we enjoy." — Milton's Areopagitica. 

It is beyond all expression important that those who 
love God should themselves be lovable : some natures, 
in order to be so, require a very deep and wide culti- 
vation, and for $his reason principally [ again urge 
that there is need of mental diligence, need of fitting 

oneself for being at all. times a pleasant, and if possible 
12 



182 



SELF-LOVE. 



an exhilarating companion ; great advantage in exer- 
cising all the skilful graces of conversation, and above 
all, that most indispensable charm of a good converser, 
timely and intelligent silence. 

A woman who talks fluently and well is too apt to 
feel as if conversation must languish if she lets her 
tongue rest five minutes at a time, which is a great 
mistake ; silence being often far more eloquent than 
words, and very commonly more agreeable. 

It appears to me that there is a fear prevalent 
among some people (wise in other respects) of being 
too pleasant in a general way ; now and then, while 
still candidates for peculiar affection, or by some 
means made unusually sensible of the amiability of 
those they love, they are roused to open more fully 
the sweetness and beauty of their minds, but only 
now and then. Pleasantness is regarded by such 
people as something like a best dress, too fine for 
every-day wear ; as if love, kindliness, and merry 
wit could ever be impaired by frequent use, when in 
truth they are every way bettered by exercise. 

Let me whisper to those who thus withhold their 



SELF-LOVE. 183 

best properties ; you thought once to bestow all your 
heart's wealth on one, and you found that treasure 
either undesired, or denied by fate to the one you 
deemed worthy of it ; hut it is still a treasure. Believe 
now that the Giver of all good would have you spend 
yours in a way far better than you intended ; He 
would have you divide among many of His creatures 
what you wished to consecrate to one, almost idolised. 
Therefore let every one with whom you live have a 
share in the treasure left so sadly at your own dis- 
posal ; give love, though it may be with an aching 
heart ; give it tenderly on all sides, and God who 
sees will accept the sacrifice. This catholic spirit of 
benevolence in heart, word, and deed, would save 
many lonely lives from running into what is now 
a common danger. It is when a woman expects to 
receive no head for her earthly being, when her heart 
seems to stand alone in life, that works of mercy per- 
formed under the guidance of a recognised leader will 
have strongest attraction. Let her pause and consider 
if she might not find a safer channel for zeal under 
the Head anl Euler over all, in the Christian fe] 



184 SELF-LOVE. 

lowship to which she is already pledged by vows of 
matchless solemnity. 

It may be known hereafter — it would be shocking 
to know now — how much the piety of those around 
as is checked by little insincerities, by formulary 
expressions of religion, accompanied by practical 
neglects of faith, hope, and charity, of all which 
we may be more or less guilty. One soul watches for 
the evidence of another soul's faith with unabating 
interest; and if in any way our religious professions 
are disproved by our habitual practice, there is always 
a dimness added to the faith of the witness, an un- 
allowed suspicion that either religion does not exact 
uttermost truth, or that its requirements may be 
slighted with impunity in some matters, if the main 
tenor of life is agreeable to its commands. Fatal 
delusion, to which our fallen nature so constantly 
inclines ! Whereas, if in everything any evil which 
exists is seen, and bravely confessed to be evil, and 
evidently eschewed as such, all who see that it is 
bo regarded, whether religious or irreligious them- 
selves, must feel the compelling force of truth, must 



SELF - LOVE. 



185 



be swayed more or less by such manifestations of a 
soul that, loving God, hates sin in any shape because 
it is hateful to God. 

It may be said all this is only the old truism that 
without consistency good professions are compara- 
tively powerless ; it is nothing more than this ; but in 
every way that is possible we must convince ourselves 
that sin, even in the most trifling concerns, is baneful 
and contagious. Such bad effects do I attribute to the 
inconsistency of religious people, that when I hear of 
the recklessness, the ill-grounded confidence, or the 
despair of irreligious minds, I generally fear that the 
Christian companions of such minds may be implicated 
in their guilt by evil influence. 

We cannot too often remember that the action of 
human influence is rapid and subtle ; as invisible and 
as unlimited, and far less within reach of analysis, 
than the air we breathe. Every spirit that comes 
near to another spirit may thus unconsciously affea 
the fate of many more :— 

" We scatter seeds with careless hand, 

And dream we ne'er shall see them more ; 



186 



SELF-LOVE. 



But for a thousand years 
Their fruit appears 
In weeds that mar the land, 
Or healthful store. 

" The deeds we do, the words we say, 
Into still air they seem to fleet, 
We count them ever past ; 
But they shall last, 
In the dread judgment they 
And we shall meet I" 

In vain should we weary and perplex our minds by 
trying to detect how and ivhen this fateful influence 
may proceed from ourselves or our companions, for, 
even with regard to the human spirit, we cannot 
know whence its power cometh or whither it goeth, 
being often wholly ignorant as to what is the measure 
of power in one, or the weakness of susceptibility in 
another mind. 

This we do know, that we may all be " fellow-help 
ers to the truth " if we live in truth ; and every Chris- 
tian who believes this, whether man or woman, will 
do well to strengthen the intellect by all possible 
means, that so it may be evident to unbelievers that 



SELF-LOVE. 



187 



the principles of our religion prevail with, us from the 
irresistible potency of Divine truth, and not from the 
weakness of the minds in which they are engrafted. 

It is much to be desired that every Englishwoman 
should prove the happiness, as well as the purity, of 
her faith by cheerful equanimity in daily life. I think 
we do not sufficiently understand what in this respect 
we owe to our country. This dear England, is it not 
worthy of our love ? and ought we not gratefully to 
enjoy the light and liberty for which our fathers have 
fought, and our martyrs bled, with the unrepining 
magnanimity of true patriots ? We are not called to 
prove our love for our country in fiery trials, but I 
think we should be more careful than we are to rouse 
it from the torpor incident to all feelings that are con- 
sidered so much a matter of course as to be hardly 
felt ; surely it should burn in thankful hearts, increas- 
ing with every year's experience of the incalculable 
blessings of English life ; second only to our love for 
Him who gave us homes in such a country, and con 
suming many petty habits of thought in the steady 
glow of public-minded affections. Far be it from us, 



183 SELF-LOVE, 

so to remember hopes of heaven as to forget those of 
a land so blest as qpxs ! This affectation of spiritual 
cosmopolitanism which induces coldness to the pecu- 
liar interests of one's own country would have been 
the shame of our ancestors, and it is no less a shame 
to us, though colored by the excuse of religious pre 
occupation. 

Seldom, however, is sleeping patriotism justified on 
this plea ; indifference and inattention to advantages 
for which other nations have long striven in vain, 
make us stare when told that every reasonable crea- 
ture born on English soil has cause for life-long grati- 
tude. Languid Englishwomen may smile, and say 
" How enthusiastic!'' in answer to words like these, 
and they may think it very imporiun to be called to 
attend more closely to the concerns of their country : 
but they are childish or cold-hearted sisters who will 
not take the trouble to inform themselves about the 
deeds and aspirations of their brothers ; nobler-hearted 
women rejoice in their goodness or their glory, and 
if they can do nothing else they pray for it, and try 
to be worthy of their relationship to heroes. 



SELF-LOVE. 189 

And England is fall of heroes : in every class heroic 
qualities exist, only waiting for the pressure of cir- 
cumstance to shine before the world. Unhappy are 
they who doubt this. AYe are very fond of money, 
very miserably devoted to our commercial interests, 
but still, thank Heaven, there are many who will 
lavish all they possess for the glory of Englishmen— 
the simple fulfilment of duty however arduous and 
however obscure. 

" The spacious liberty of generalities " is peculiarly 
delightful when we dwell upon our national virtues, 
yet it is well to check one's pace in that " champaign 
region," for there pride may boast without opposition 
of untried powers. Let us, therefore, pause in some 
of the " enclosures of particularity," let us examine 
actual duty in one of the most quiet departments of 
social life, in the home circle of an unnoticeable 
English gentlewoman. I wish we could have a little 
more public-mindedness wise and wakeful there. 

Hooker, when speaking of women, has observed 
the " singular delight which they take in giving very 
large and particular intelligence how all near them 



190 SELF-LOVE. 

stand affested," — but if their acute faculties had a 
more extended range of interest than the immediate 
neighborhood that surrounds them, how much better 
they might be fitted for being the helpmates of 
man ! 

I know that when there is a great deal of needle- 
work to be got through, or a number of notes to be 
written, or many indispensable arrangements to be 
made previous to an impending visit, a woman feels it 
comparatively unimportant for her to know what 
change has been made in the Sardinian ministry, 
what measures carried in the cabinet of Vienna, or 
even who the Americans will choose for their Presi- 
dent ; and she would think it hard to be obliged to 
spend an hour or half an hour in reading or hearing 
about these public affairs ; indeed, if able to speak 
frankly, she would say that it was much more neces- 
sary for her to see the dressmaker, and fold the notes, 
and do the shopping. An opinion that is very natu- 
ral, and perfectly correct ; but must we not confess 
that -habitual interest in poplins and silks, eagerness 
about invitations, and extreme solicitude for drawing- 



SELF-LOVE. 191 

room ornaments, are justly accused as frivolous, if 
brothers and gentleman friends find us utterly regard- 
less of matters that affect nations, and cannot prevail 
on us to give as much, attention to a change of 
dynasty in a European state, as we hasten to devote 
to a new kind of embroidery, or a revolution in the 
make of sleeves ? 

If it were possible to stretch imagination beyond 
our own little world, we might see through the dust 
raised by our own petty movements into more exten- 
sive regions, and might feel the assent that we so impa- 
tiently give, when reminded that an edict more or less 
hazardous to liberty in a distant state is at least quite 
as worthy of consideration as the prospect of an even- 
ing party, or a change of household servants. For 
we should then have learned to believe that the inter- 
ests of individuals are really bound up with those of a 
nation, and that the fate of one European people 
cannot fail indirectly to affect the happiness of another, 
though often by means so inscrutable that they are 
not discerned until a whole generation of men has 
expiated the selfishness and folly of its predecessors. 



192 SELF-LOVE. 

I am sorry to say that I now speak theoretically,— my 
own heart being generally so filled with present and 
personal concerns that it greatly needs the reform I 
advocate. 

As a part of its curative regimen I find History 
very useful. Virtually, whatever we say of our inte- 
rest in historic characters, it is slight compared with 
what we feel about the least portion of our own lives ; 
and in the heart of selfish women egotism is so pre- 
dominant, that to believe in the existence of other 
people's perplexed life dramas is as much as they can 
do ; to imagine any part of a burden unfelt, or pas- 
sions unshared, is not in them. 

And how often do we all huddle up our notions of 
an historic past in a confused tangle of thought, of 
which the most distinguished thread is naturally 
something answering to our own experience, or some- 
thing that can be recognised as a cause of effects now 
seen or felt in our present life ; as if those who lived 
before us were chiefly concerned, and most especially 
destined to effect such and such results bearing upon 
our own lifetime. A childish, yet a very common 



SELF-LOVE. 193 

way of studying the past; going backwards and 
saying, we have this and the other advantage because 
that king was foolish, and that turn of a revolution 
decisive, without at all weighing the importance of 
those bygone events to the actors and sufferers who 
lived through them. 

History is often burdensome to women for this very 
reason, that while it seldom recognises the lives of past 
generations as being subordinated to the prosperity of 
our own, it gravely insists upon the full and indepen- 
dent weight of foregone actions, and shows that men 
suffered and enjoyed and strove with intense feelings, 
— with an interest as absorbing as any to which our 
egotism now gives the epithet of important. 

As an indirect means of repressing selfishness I 
know none so successful as prevailing on the mind to 
attend to facts and feelings quite unrelated to its own. 
If you can bring yourself to a state of perception in 
which the issue of a battle or treaty some centuries 
ago appears as truly momentous as the treatment you 
receive from some contemporary, — awful, either from 
your great love, or great timidity — you have gained 



194 SELF-LOVE. 

immense advantage ; your heart as well as your head 
will be the better for the process. 

I sometimes fear that even the too common neglect 
of religion in early manhood may be in part attribu- 
table to the trifling conversation of women ; for is it 
not a great additional temptation to an unstable mind 
to perceive that the claims of religion are supported 
with vehemence by those whose toilsome frivolity is 
practically unaltered; who are still engrossed with 
the vanities they profess to renounce ? I do not wish 
that women should talk or feel as if they were politi- 
cians ; but as members of the great human family, I 
think they should try by all means to keep heart and 
mind open and alive to all subjects which materially 
affect human happiness. For this purpose careful 
attention to newspapers is almost always necessary ; 
since she who takes all her notions of public affairs 
from private hearsay, is more likely to become an 
eager partisan than a quiet and well-informed observer. 

Without any malicious meaning, I must notice 
what seems to give practical contradiction to all I 
may advance in favor of women being well disci- 



SELF-LOVE. 195 

plined for mental exercise, as much, at least, as their 
nature is prepared for. I allude to the remarkable 
fact, that by their choice in marriage, very clever 
men frequently prove Talleyrand to have been any- 
thing but singular in preferring a wife "la plus 
nulle" in point of mental endowments, to one whose 
concentrated affections (according to a popular super- 
stition) might be disturbed by activity of brain, In 
matters of taste like this, one cannot but believe that 
people know what conduces to their own happiness 
better than the abstract thinker ever can ; yet it is a 
fact no less certain and quite as remarkable, that in 
any relation except that of a wife, a man appears to 
be as glad of superior powers of mind in a feminine 
companion, as she is of an unselfish consideration for 
other people, whenever that rare and distinguishing 
grace is to be found in a manly character. Now those 
for whom I write are single women. 



196 



oELF-LOVE. 



CHAPTER XL 

M This world is full of beauty, like other worlds above ; 
And, if we did our duty, it might be full of love." 

Gerald asset 

"The blue 

Bared its eternal bosom, and the dew 
Of summer night collected still to make 
The morning precious : Beauty was awake ! 
Why were ye not awake ?" — Keats. 

Who among us sufficiently understands the use of a 
love of beauty ? The instinctive affection for beauty 
is seldom wanting in any woman, but there are com- 
paratively few who exercise that affection with the 
diligence which goes so far towards making home 
happy. A beautifying spirit is a blessing which no 
thwarting circumstances can altogether exclude ; we 
often feel its charms in the poorest cottage, we often 
miss them in homes where there is no lack either of 
money or leisure, and where we hardly know what 
is wrong, feeling only that vague sort of disquiet that 
arises from an aggrieved taste. 



SELF-LOVE. 197 

The degree of uneasiness felt among tasteless ar- 
rangements varies, of course, according to original 
temperament and occasional moods ; yet, I think, it 
is felt by all more or less ; not always distinctly, for 
strong feelings, eager pursuits, and imperious habits 
of self-indulgence, frequently deaden all perceptions 
except those which lead immediately to the object of 
desire ; though even then it is uncertain how much 
is perceived and felt of what the mind takes no 
notice consciously. But if we except all times of 
preoccupation from the possible sway of taste, how 
many hours remain in every day during which we 
must be influenced by it ! If the eye, raised ever and 
anon from engrossing work, takes no heed of a good 
engraving, dwells not one moment upon the vase of 
lilies on an opposite table, can it escape the pleasant 
vision during the intervals of relaxation, and the slow 
diversions of a morning call? I think not; — and 
though many people, men not women, will assert 
that they scarcely know what is in the room besides 
their business, I am unable to believe this, till I have 

seen them tested by being placed in a room where the 
13 



198 



SELF-LOVE. 



paper is hideous, the paint dirty, the pictures glaring 
and bad, and the carpet violently colored. If, after 
enduring this ordeal for several days, they could still 
say that they were indifferent to appearances, I might 
indeed credit their report, but it would be with a pity 
not unlike what we feel for the blind. 

Every work of the Creator, which man has not 
sullied, is marked with consummate beauty ; and as 
it is a blessing most lavishly bestowed in a world 
where many other advantages, apparently more de- 
sirable, are but sparingly given, and often withheld, 
it is hardly possible to doubt that for us Beauty is 
very good ; and that, therefore, it is right to cherish 
a taste for what is beautiful, and to use every inno- 
cent means for its gratification. 

Now, if the exercise of a beautifying spirit is fairly 
classed among woman's duties, — and I think it ought 
to be, — it must be carried out into every detail of 
life which it can affect, without disturbing other 
duties. 

This is the condition on which there is so much 
difference of opinion among the wise and good, that I 



SELF-LOVE. 



199 



should think it very presumptuous to draw a line for 
any practice but my own, between what is excess and 
what deficiency in the attention due to ornament. 

Indeed, I think it admits of no demarcation by 
mere prudence, and though it is most unwise to 
seek from conscience a decision upon points that 
cannot be reduced to a question of right or wrong — 
where only prudence can call one mode of dealing 
right, and only taste accuse another of being wrong, 
yet nothing short of conscience, — and conscience 
enlightened by habitual prayer and habitual self- 
discipline, — can decide how much time and money 
may be given by a devout person to external adorn- 
ments. And I believe that without the irreverence 
of asking for especial revelations of God's will, in 
matters which He has given us the task of regulating 
by what we call natural powers of mind, we may 
refer these and all other perplexities to Him, as to 
the judge before whose tribunal we shall stand to 
give account for the use made of every power, and of 
taste among the rest. For unless we seek His im- 
perceptible guidance, even in those little matters for 



200 



SELF-LOVE. 



wMck it may seem too trifling to ask tlie advice of 
friends, I think we shall ever waver between the two 
extremes of vain expenditure and undesirable singu 
larity. 

We have need scrupulously to watch against any 
over-indulgence of "the sixth insatiable sense (of 
vanity),'' for it is insatiable. We have no less need 
to be on our guard against an unwise adherence to 
one kind of duty, (as, for instance, the duty of check- 
ing luxurious habits,) which, however binding as 
duty, becomes faulty when it stands in the way of 
another, equally important, and such, I suppose, is 
the duty of being, and making things around you as 
agreeable as nature, and means, and position will 
allow. English women will be slow to believe that 
there can be any duty in what is so naturally pleasant 
to womanly feelings ; for the English are apt to think 
unpleasantness a necessary ingredient of virtue ; and 
if this is wanting, suspicions arise that it is a falla- 
cious virtue ; witness the common error of believing 
that no one can be so sincere as those who are 
disagreeably rough and blunt in manner. I shall 



SELF-LOVE. 



201 



therefore select an example of the duty I now recom- 
mend, which requires self-denial enough to give it 
some credit, even in England. Keeping the room 
neat; or as people often say with some precipitation 
in the moment between a visitor's knock and a 
servant's announcement, "making the room look a 
little comfortable." A phrase I have often reflected 
upon with some surprise that they who wish a room 
•to look comfortable for guests, should not have liked 
it to look so to their own eyes, and retained a little 
of this sort of charity for home use. But what does 
that sort of discomfort amount to which it is unsuit- 
able for visitors to see ? Some heavy work being cut 
out, perhaps, or an array of butchers 7 and bakers' 
books being "settled" beside a great ledger? Sel- 
dom does anything so business-like encumber a 
drawing-room at the time of day when callers impend : 
but one busy worker plants her basket on the floor 
and her box on the table, and being (it is a common 
fault) more anxious to finish the work than to make 
the room comfortable, she has hastily snatched out of 
the basket the wools she wanted, and in so doing, has 



202 



SELF-LOVE. 



left a tangled heap half-falling from its edge. An- 
other inmate of the same room comes down after 
luncheon with all her drawing apparatus, and without 
a thought of looks, she clears one-half of a table by 
loading the other with uneven piles, one or two of 
which being roofed with pamphlets and periodicals, 
scatter a strew of papers on the carpet when the 
opening door makes a draught from the win- 
dow. 

Some hole- work lies on the window-sill; for she 
who rises from the piano as the visitors enter, had 
suddenly wished to try a piece of music, long forgotten 
at the bottom of a music-box, and without pausing 
to put by her work, or to remove a bundle of umbel- 
liferous plants thrown on a chair after botanical dis- 
section, she dived among heaps of music for the 
sonata she wanted, and was so pleased to find it and 
play it off at once that she did not notice that the box 
was left jammed open with music half drawn out. 
She does notice it, perhaps, when she sits down by a 
smiling neighbor to comment upon the fineness of 
the day ; and as she glances over the disordered room, 



SELF-LOVE. 



203 



probably wonders how it is that they always are in 

such a litter when Mrs. calls. 

Eemark that in this picture of a room made uncom- 
fortable I have admitted no masculine agency ; no 
books thrown down on their faces on the sofas where 
they were read, no writing-book pushed as far as 
convenience prompted against a flower-glass which it 
threatens to overturn; no unmanageable litter of 
papers and reports, all which we so gladly allow in 
consideration of the energetic habits of the nobler 
sex ; I speak of feminine omissions only. It is, how- 
ever, very noticeable, that a man of average perfec- 
tion seems to claim from woman both his own and 
her share of neatness ; perhaps it is more arduous to 
him to put things away than it can be to her ; at any 
rate let us be happy to do it where we can, and never 
flatter ourselves that a friend " or brother, whose 
presence in a drawing-room ensures a degree of dis- 
arrangement, will be at all less conscious of it w^hen 
the untidy appearance is caused by any one but him- 
self. I will answer for it that a man of ordinary 
habits feels something like a sigh in his heart, if, on 



201 



SELF-LOVE. 



returning to the general sitting-room, lie finds things 
still out of place, still without the quiet adjustments 
of a woman's hand; and if he finds evidence of it 
having pushed things out of the way here and there 
without any regard to public comfort, — if habitually 
he sees the place where she sits marked, like the form 
of an animal, by the untidy clearance which shoving 
things aside always makes, is he not to be pardoned 
for a slight movement of impatience ? Is a shade of 
gloom on his face and of sullenness in his manner 
unlikely then ? I fear it is often to be observed by 
those who are not so narrowly shut up in their own 
occupations as to be only aware of the quantity of 
time still left for the quantity of work still undone. 
For the state of a room chills the heart of a spectator 
if selfishness seems to have made forethought drowsy 
and sympathy impossible. I do not say that selfish- 
ness is the most usual cause of untidy habits, for 
experience strongly contradicts such a notion ; nor 
that selfishness, where it exists, is recognised in house- 
hold disorders, even when they are of every-day 
occurrence, but I am sure that it is often obscurely 



SELF-LOVE. 



205 



felt; and one would fear that graver duties than that 
of keeping a room neat must be endangered by a 
woman's total absorption in her own employment; 
one would suspect that the eye which overlooked 
many little discords in outward things, could not be 
quick to detect those slight indications of temper, or 
dejection, or pre-occupation of mind, on which a 
woman's tact must depend if she means to be what 
her Maker formed her to be, a help meet for man. 
The woman who does not feel herself to be so, whether 
a young girl, or a wife, or an elderly maiden, knows 
not what happiness belongs to her by right of nature, 
apart from all conditions of character and circum- 
stance ; the thousand fine intuitions of wisdom, which 
only a delicate organisation would be sufficiently pas- 
sive to retain, giving her a more real power than they 
who talk about the rights of women are ever likely to 
possess. 

That word power may sound like mockery to 
those who are weary of continual- dependence at an 
age when it seems to keep them in a false position. 
It is certainly very dispiriting to feel yourself a mere 



206 



SELF-LOVE. 



appendage in any household, particularly if you think 
your character was formed for unfettered activity ; if 
you feel that its best impulses are thwarted by your 
position, and believe — in spite of religious faith — that 
with happy freedom 

" the right life had been liv'd, 
And justice done to divers faculties 
Shut in that brow." 

Yet you should be aware of the pride that often 
lurks under the disguise of regret at being a burden, 
and hampered by dependence in your schemes for 
doing good (as if good was only to be done by recog- 
nised and definite means) ; not only pride, but over- 
sensitiveness may make this a source of poignant 
chagrin. I am, therefore, very desirous that all who 
are not indispensable members of a family should 
clearly see and constantly remember that if — though 
without appointed service — they are not serviceable, 
it is generally from fault in themselves, and not from 
their position. No one is necessarily exempted from 
public service ; and because a woman's service must 



SELF-LOVE. 



207 



be quietly given and altogether unobserved, it is not 
less valuable for tlie public weal. 

If you had really no other means of doing good 
than keeping a room in pleasant looks, and your 
manners in a sociable key, such service is not to be 
despised ; for the minds we soothe and cheer, or 
sadden and exasperate at home, go out into the busy 
world ; and little do we think how great a difference 
may be made in public affairs by the humors of men 
when they come in contact with their subordinates or 
superiors ; we well know how great a difference may 
be made in their moods by ours. Is yours dejected? 
It seems to you hardly worth while to feign a joyous- 
ness you cannot feel ; yes, joyousness — that grace 
most rare in highly cultivated circles — cannot, indeed, 
be put on ; nothing so saddening as an artificial gaiety ; 
but serenity, kindliness, hopeful words, and encourag- 
ing looks are all within the reach of prayer. Pray 
that you may never be without these. 

And, however much you feel the dullness and irk- 
someness of your circumstances, do not lessen your 
efforts to give to all things about you the greatest 



203 



SELF-LOVE. 



charm you can ; it is, perhaps, the most heroic effort 
that can be made by a person whose good humor is 
failing under the impression that she is herself the 
ugliest or least interesting object in any room where 
she happens to be, 

A beautifying spirit may survive every hope of a 
bright or picturesque life of one's own, and wher- 
ever it exists, the present moment will be treated 
with more care than is usually given to it by the 
hopeful. For in resigning our younger expectations, 
we do not give up all; still is happiness in this 
world, and by sharp experience we may learn to 
enjoy it calmly as it comes, knowing that it comes 
at uncertain times, and lasts but for a season. A 
season as short and interrupted as our gladness in 
u spring's delightful weather," when the green flanies* 

* An expression borrowed from Ludwig Tieck, the sweetest 
poet of spring that I know. In one of his lovely poems on the 
return of spring he says, 

4; Daiin sucht er sein Spielzeug wieder zusammen, 
Dass der alte Winter zusammen zerstort ; 
Er putzt den Wald mit gn'inen Flammen, 
Der Nachtigall er die Lieder lehrt." 



SELF-LOVE. 209 

of tender foliage rise on all sides of our view, and the 
snow-w bite blossoms of our orchards, seen from " the 
windows of diligence," make us yearn to go out and 
meet the beauty that smiles all around ; but Ave only 
look at it for a few minutes, either our cares, or our 
sorrows and vanities distract us from the still contem- 
plation of beauty, and as Ave sit with our neighbors 
we often speak of it, sighing inwardly because we are 
too busy and eager to be glad with nature ; we think 
we shall find time for it on a more quiet day, perhaps 
to-morrow ; and it may be that when to-morrow comes 
the face of nature is changed, and a keen east wind 
is warping to one side each batswing chesnut leaf, 
an i the sun hides among hard-looking clouds, as many 

Then seeks he again his playthings out 

That old Winter has crushed with his icy nail ; 

He spreads green flames the woods about, 
He teaches her song to the nightingale. 

Shelley has noticed the same appearance with a similar term : 

11 In the April prime, 
When all the forest tips began to bura 
With kindling green, touched by the azure clime 
Of the young year's dawn." 



210 



SELF-LOVE. 



and as dim as the thoughts which thronged our hearts 
yesterday. 

However, in country life beauty is generally a more 
constant companion than happiness ; but when I wish 
to speak of beauty I hesitate, for it is a great mys- 
tery. Only little birds, high up in their leafy homes, 
seem able to speak aright of beauty and of love, for 
in their measure of both is perfectness and full 
possession ; when we talk of them it is either of what 
is hoped for and not possessed, or of what seems to 
belong to us for awhile, and is therefore held with 
so much anxiety, that the joyfulness of possession is 
mixed with fear of loss, and the sweetest rapture has 
its sighing. Besides which, with regard to beauty, 
there is this capital flaw in the Anglo-Saxon nature ; 
pursuit is a necessary part of its enjoyment, and 
beauty is scarcely felt by a stirring, restless mind. In 
the quiet spirit that can surrender itself to external 
impressions, and, without slothful apathy, calm itself 
by deep contemplation, — in such a spirit beauty finds 
a grateful response, and the Creator an adoring 
witness of His works. For beauty is one of the few 



SELF-LOVE. 



211 



things in life that affect us as being in themselves 
ultimate objects, and not a means for farther attain- 
ment ; if it is regarded as a means, it is not truly felt. 
Wherever it is, it staj^s pursuit and arrests thought 
with sweet emotion, — with emotion more pure from 
egotism than any of which we are susceptible, because 
it gains no impetus from personal interest. 

I speak, of course, of natural beauty, and of its 
effects upon those who do not wait to admire color 
till it is lodged in a precious stone or costly fabric, 
but who truly delight in color and form such as they 
are found in the brilliant mosaic of a meadow — 

" eyed with blooms 
Minute yet beautiful." 

A little child's estimate of beauty is in this respect 
more grateful, and more just to the intrinsic loveli- 
ness of things than the admiration of their world- 
taught elders ; and it would be no small service to 
the rising generation, if every woman who has to do 
with children could foster the disinterested taste for 
beauty that enraptures so many little souls ; if, for 



212 



SELF-LOVE. 



example, she could support and justify the baby's 
eagerness for a bright red leaf in a girl who, by force 
of conventional habits, would soon learn to pass it by 
without observation, while she very earnestly admired 
a bit of red ribbon ! 

If you think my notions of beauty are correct, 
you will see why I turned from the sorrows of a de- 
pendent or detached life to enlarge upon this magic 
power which can give sweetness and tranquillity to 
hours of unrelieved solitude, and affluence of pleasures 
to the poor ; 

" If dewy morn, and odorous noon, and even, 
With sunset and its gorgeous ministers, 
And solemn midnight's tingling silentness ; 
If autumn's hollow sighs in the sere wood, 
And winter, robing with pure snow and crowns 
Of starry ice the grey grass and bare boughs," 

have been dear to you ; if you already thank God for 
giving you a perception of beauty, and innumerable 
forms of beauty to perceive, you may learn to think 
them no slight compensation for the blessings of 
which you are deprived. In downcast moods, when 
you feel that your spirit 



SELF-LOVE. 



213 



" hath no wings 
To raise it to the truth and light of things," 

I wish you would give it, if possible, the cordial 
refreshment of beauty, either in nature or picture, in 
music or in poem. Think it no trifling remedy, nc 
derogation of Christian dignity, to do so when it 
would better suit your ideal of self-discipline and 
piety to condemn yourself for discontent, and pray 
till your heart was lightened. Fail not to pray, but 
beware of neglecting all other appliances of happiness 
because prayer is enjoined, and pleasure is not; for 
diligence and prudence, and rejoicing in our work, 
have all promises of Scripture to certify that they 
shall be blessed. 

To those who from difference of nature can scarcely 
understand what I have here said about beauty, and 
therefore dismiss it from attention with the con 
venient title of nonsense, one would be tempted t<> 
say— 

" Is Beauty then a dream, because the glooms 

Of Dulness hang too heavy on thy sense 

To let her shine upon thee ?" 
14 



214 



SELF-LOVE. 



Yet without any dulness, it must be confessed 
that many people are very insensible to beauty, and 
can hardly avoid suspecting that half that is said about 
it by admirers is overstrained ; I, for one, have under- 
said what I feel. 

I believe people are more capable of receiving joy 
from beauty in middle age than they were in adoles- 
cence, the heart always snatching first at pleasures 
which begin and end in self, and being taught slowly, 
and with pain, that it is to have no share in the joy 
of the loveliness it sees, except by disinterested admi- 
ration ; and it is certain that whatever we lose of self- 
interest we may gain in some other interest far more 
rejoicing, and freer from alloy. I doubt if any one 
adequately values the common gifts of nature, moon- 
light and clouds, sunrises and sunsets, song of birds, 
and wealth of flowers, until strong afflictions have 
broken down self-will, and made the heart as meek as 
a little child's. 

But at first, in times of extreme suffering, beauty 
gives no pleasure, gains no attention ; it is power- 
less; and sometimes it is "terrible to the broken 



SELF-LOVE. 



215 



heart * but afterwards, when grief has spent its f< >rce, 
and passion is silenced, and every wish speaks low and 
timidly, then we are glad that the unconscious world 
around us is fair and calm, that it still dreams of 
paradise, and prophesies of a future world where 
there shall be no more sighing, or pain, or death ; 
and then we thank our Father for having " garnished 
the heavens," and made everything beautiful in its 
season on the earth. 

* It is not every poet in our versifying days who gives any 
proof of knowing what these words, " a broken heart" mean ; 
I therefore take from the rough and fiery poem from which I 
quoted them the passage that follows, though few, I hope, have 
been so unhappy as to be able to appreciate its beauty : — 

" Beautiful light ! yet sleep upon 
Some flower loved by an angel gone. 

Horrible light 1 how does it lower I 
Turn'd to a flashing sword ; — how rake 
The heart it enter'd as a lake ! 

The sheep bell, and the small night-flower 
Twinkling and breathing in the fading 
Landscape — oh ! then strange natures take 
Like fallings and faint ghosts upbraiding ! 
Envenom' d with the past, springs breath 
Of violets languishes to death ; 
With her wild song one mountain girl 
Sings the heart sick." 

J Downes's Proud Shepherd's Tragedy. 



216 



SELF-LOVE. 



Finding in all visible beauty a revelation of His 
love, vre more patiently endure the discords of our 
present being, and more confidently anticipate the 
perfect harmony of eternal life. 



SELF-LOVE. 



217 



CHAPTER XII. 

"It is an immutable law of God, that all rational beings should 
act reasonably in all their actions ; not at this time, or in that place, 
or upon this occasion, or in the use of some particular thing, but at all 
times, in all places, on all occasions, and in the use of all things. This- 
is a law as unchangeable as God, and can no more cease to be than 
God can cease to be a God of wisdom and order. When, therefore, 
any being that is endued with reason does an unreasonable thing 
at any time, or in any place, or in the use of anything, it sins against 
the great law of its nature, abuses itself, and sins against God, the 
author of that nature/' — Law's Serious Call to a Devout and Holy 
Life, chap. v. 

It will not be forgotten that though, a due enjoyment 
of beauty is as rare as sufficient culture of the imagi- 
nation, it is equally liable to be carried to excess 
wherever it is possible that it should predominate. 
A prudent mind will guard incessantly against any 
strong feeling that can disturb the balance of character 
which is necessary for spiritual health. 

We have already considered several ways of making 
single life useful : at the risk of wearying by further 
detail, I shall, in the two next chapters, notice some 



213 



SELF-LOVE. 



habits of mind which frequently kinder us from being 
happy-hearted, and which therefore withhold from our 
companions those unconscious services that result from 
the mere presence of a good and cheerful woman. 

As these bad habits must often affect our inter- 
course with other people, directly as well as indirectly, 
I shall not be able to avoid occasional recurrence to 
points of social conduct on which I have already 
enlarged: but if I am as wearisome as I fear to be. let 
it be remembered that I speak of a phase of human 
life most uninteresting to the world at large ; and 
that a grave subject, inexhaustible in duiness, makes 
no claim on the attention of an idle reader. 

If I had to single out among all the foibles of a 
well-meaning person the one which worked most 
mischief in life, I think I should not hesitate to name 
inattention, a mild name for an incalculable evil. The 
child will not attend to its lesson. — until it does it 
cannot learn, and consequently must suffer: this is 
one of the first and most useful things we are taught ; 
and- in after life, when our hearts are set upon learn- 
ing, we force ourselves with more or less effort to 



SELF-LOVE. 



219 



attend ; but in a general way few minds are thoroughly 
attentive. Early habit, distractions within and with- 
out, obscure feelings, and unsettled principles of action, 
combine to keep us in a state of partial attention, 
which exposes us to annoyance on all sides, and suffers 
neither wisdom nor refreshment to reach us from any, 
without such confusion of thought as must necessarily 
diminish their effects. And it is to be feared that this 
evil grows upon us ; higher civilisation, as it is called, 
greatly increases the variety of our stimulants ; higher 
culture of mind opens to us larger fields for intellectual 
exercise, and goads us forward at a quicker rate ; but 
it makes single purposes, and an entire concentration 
of thought far more difficult than it could have been 
to our less enlightened forefathers ; and with all our 
enticements to thought, and all the vast range of 
speculation to which modern literature invites us, I 
cannot flatter myself that thoughtfulness is more 
common than it was in times when there was less 
said and written about it: in truth, I think it im 
possible that it should be. 

The human mind is a strong engine ; but its ca 



220 



SELF-LOVE. 



pacity is finite, and its limits narrow, compared to all 
that is now offered for its acceptance ; and if you 
divide the operations of the mind in nine or ten 
kinds of research, yon mnst inevitably give less at- 
tention to nine or ten than you could if four or five 
were all you aimed at. Of course exercise increases 
strength; but excessive exercise, either of mind or 
body, leads to prostration of strength ; and of this I 
think we may find abundant proof in the present 
day. 

Coleridge spoke, in his Aids to Reflection , of " the 
indisposition, nay, the angry aversion to think, even 
in persons who are most willing to attend, and on the 
subjects to which they are giving the most studious 
attention ;" are we not grown even more indolent in 
this respect since his day ? Is not even attention 
wanting now ? Who can deny the charge which one 
of our ablest Eeviews has lately admitted, that 
at the present time there is an " almost savage re- 
pugnance to, and incapacity for, attention?' I do 
not wonder at it. To judge by the general tone of 
conversation, an inexperienced person might suppose 



SELF-LOVE. 



221 



modern intellects to be gifted with superhuman 
powers. "Have you read?" preceding, and either 
" Yes/' or "No, I arq going to read," following, the 
names of a number of books that would have lasted 
our ancestors for years as many as the days during 
which they cumber our drawing-room tables, waiting 
to be looked at, looked through, talked about, and 
secretly groaned over in the appointed fortnight or 
ten days that they remain there, while flitting through 
the affluent book-club. Let us be honest, and allow 
that all these books cannot be read, much less thought 
about. You may say, they are not all intended to be 
read carefully, but only a few of them, or a bit here 
and there. Ah, that bit-reading ! that hasty snatch- 
ing at unripe thought, and sketchy narrative, what 
does it avail us? At dinner-time, in general conversa- 
tion. Is it then so pleasant to say, or to be told, 
"Oh! you should read that charming story ; and, let 
me see, somebody's travels in Egypt, Bayard Taylors 
they were; very clever; quite worth reading; — we 
had it for a few weeks; but I could not read it 
through, unluckily, for that last work of Sir David 



SELF-LOVE. 



Brewster's came with it, and had to be read too, and 
now I am getting through Bain's Senses and the Intel- 
lect" Unhappy intellect ! if you are not in these days 
hurried, halting, and impatient, a real instrument of 
self-torture, it is no thanks to the customs of the 
nineteenth century. But a woman, with her amazing 
versatility and quickness of perception, accommo- 
dates herself to this sort of scrap diet very cheerfully : 
it is when she is importuned to study, to read some- 
thing in a thorough way, that her powers begin to 
fail, and sometimes her temper. If she is of an 
active mind she will often, of her own accord, set her- 
self too hard a task, and expect in too short a time 
to gain much information, seeking it probably in too 
many directions at once. For, take the number of 
books such a woman tries to read and get instruction 
from, is it possible to crowd into one memory so great 
a medley of facts and notions without time for medi- 
tation, or any desire more pressing than that which 
animates a hasty reader to get through the chapter, 
and reach the Finis of one book before she begins to 
devour another ? If it is possible, and if your 



SELF-LOVE. 223 

-memory can retain all yon mercilessly thrust upon it, 
still it is but a feverish, sort of life that is squandered 
in passing quickly through the painted scenes of 
other lives ; it must rob you of many pleasures thai 
can only be tasted in tranquillity. 

You have had, I doubt not, many suspicions of this, 
but it was difficult, in the clamor that has been raised 
about culture of the mind, to choose and carry out a 
moderate line of study ; to restrict yourself to a few 
books, and steadily to devote to this selection all the 
attention and all the time allotted to reading. Here, 
as in most other subjects of this nature, Emerson has 
aimed at folly with a direct and keen stroke. " How 
dare I read Washington's campaigns when I have 
not answered the letters of my own correspondents ? 
Is not that a just objection to much of our reading ? 
It is a pusillanimous desertion of our work to gaze 

after our neighbor's I can think of 

nothing to fill my time with, and I find the life of 
Brant. It is a very extravagant compliment to pay 
to Brant, or to General Schuyler, or to General 
Washington. My time should be as good as their 



224 



SELF-LOVE. 



time, my facts, my net of relations as good as tlieirs ; 
or either of theirs." The advantage of having such 
a wealth of books as ours in the present day is too 
great to be innocently abused by the gasping haste 
with which we read them; and there is no doubt 
that it tends to lower the style of modern literature 
at a perceptible rate of deterioration. For, con- 
sciously or unconsciously, writers adapt themselves 
to the taste of the majority of their readers, and 
feel sure that if their thoughts are to be read they 
must be slight and shallow enough to be taken in at 
a glance; rather startling, to attract attention; and, 
if possible, humorous, because a witty sentence will 
be remembered and quoted when a serious one is 
passed over. I am not so ungrateful as to complain 
of all modern writers ; all have not declined to these 
paltry conditions of popularity ; but many have; and 
I grieve to see the light food on which hundreds of 
intellects diet themselves only because it is freshly 
prepared, while they neglect the solid treasures of 
older authors whose works have indeed gained a 
nominal immortality, but a position in our book- 



SELF-LOVE. 



225 



shelves so quiescent that they are more like literary 
mummies than vivifying spiritual powers.* How 
new and welcome a sensation of repose would be 
felt by some readers, if they were no longer urging 
themselves to keep up with the literature of the 
day ; a race about as exhausting as a continual run 
after a number of butterflies. For my part, I should 
prefer to know where an old stock of bees had hived 
the honey of a past season, and having found it, I 
would not be turned away from their well-filled combs. 

* For the sake of those who may not know or remember 
them, I will again quote the verses that must have been many 
times quoted before : — 

n blessed letters I that combine in one 

All ages past, and make one live with ail : 

By you we do confer with who are gone, 
And the dead-living unto counsel call : 

By you the unborn shall have communion 
Of what we feel, and what doth us befall. 

" Since writings are the veins, the arteries, 
And undecaying life-strings of those hearts 
That still shall pant, and still shall exercise 

Their mightiest powers when nature none imparts : 
And shall with those alive so sympathise, 

As nourish'd with their powers, enjoy their parts." 

Daniel's Defence of Learning, 



226 



SELF-LOVE. 



Confess to yourselves, do you not often find you* 
reading time irksome because you cannot quite de- 
termine how it would be best spent, when there are 
so many books you wish to read ; and because there 
is such a tumult in your mind from the variety of 
thoughts that are fighting for mastery ? 

A history, or an essay may be very interesting, but 
the least division of opinion in your mind as to 
whether it is worth while to go on with it inevitably 
deprives you of half your powers. It is from an un- 
certain estimate of what is worth while that in these 
days so many suffer and so many are enfeebled. For, 
however laudable our employment may be, until we 
are convinced that the very thing we attend to, be it 
little or great, is worth the application of our most 
entire attention, we are more or less distracted by 
thoughts of those things which, either from inclina- 
tion or principle, have previously absorbed us ; and 
the present work of mind or hand is half attended to, 
and therefore ill-done. 

The belief that we can do things well enough with 
half attention, and the hope of helping ourselves by 



SELF-LO V R. 



"tricking short cuts, and little fallacious facilities," are 
two delusions deeply laid in the human heart, and at 
the bottom of many faults that might yield to the 
instincts of reasonable self-love if the folly of such 
delusions could be exposed. 

The procrastinator delays to act, with the hope that 
she may be able to make up for lost time somehow ; 
for a distinct how reason cannot promise ; the sloven, 
by a hasty throwing on of clothes snatched from the 
drawer, hopes to attain by a coup de main the same 
effect of personal neatness which careful dressers take 
some trouble to secure ; the superficial converser on 
books and things imperfectly known, thinks that a 
slight acquaintance with both enables her to hold a 
social position quite as satisfactory as that which is 
gained by real knowledge or unaffected ignorance ; 
the lax speaker, who would fain be thought fervent 
or affectionate, though feeling is not strong, hopes to 
fill up the blanks of indifference with vehement 
words; the apologiser to make a lavish waste of 
excuses supply the place of deeds; the unrepentant, 
in a Hay, or week, or year, at all events he/ore deaOi, 



228 



SELF-LOVE. 



to make sure of eternal happiness, to prepare foi 
which an omniscient Judge has appointed the whole 
of our earthly career. Most of these cut-short habits 
arise from a rooted disbelief in the necessities of the 
future being as pressing as those of the present. 
Though we know, by virtue of our reason, that we 
shall wish to be in time, in proper guise, in social 
esteem for sincerity, in trust and in safety, at any 
future epoch as much as now we do, yet the claims of 
now are settled by inclination, of then by reason ; and 
in most people inclination, (which is more the result 
of our weakness than our will,) gains the present 
indulgence, for which it must ultimately suffer far 
more than it ever could from timely contradiction. 
No doubt those whom inclination guides are furnished 
with reasons strong enough to satisfy the mind, or at 
least to save it from any irksome degree of reflection ; 
reasons about as valid as those which soothe the half- 
roused sleeper, who thinks, "it is no use to wake up 
yet, there will be plenty of time for dressing half an 
hour later, I may be comfortable a little longer ; what 
folly to get up before one need I" The force of such 



S E LF-LOVE. 



229 



reasons is not felt by the once awakened mind, when 
it perceives that inclination carried its point beyond 
bounds, that it is too late. 

I will not urge the comparison any further, though 
the frequent phenomena of a late riser's contending 
wishes might serve to remind us that a sleeping soul 
must be roused from its carelessness lest its cry of 
" too late /" should begin with everlasting woe. 

When speaking of the folly of trying to get more 
than is possible done in a given time by dint of hurry, 
it is but fair to allow that in some cases it appears to 
succeed ; the powers of some people being seldom 
fully exerted without the spur of necessity ; and their 
directness and celerity, when this stimulates them, 
contrasting favorably with the hesitation and torpor 
of those whose tardy action brings into discredit the 
prudent method to which they adhere. Certainly, 
one may as easily spend too much time upon each 
business as too little, but it is quite certain too that as 
soon as we study how to get a thing done quickly, 
more than how to do it well, we do it ill just in pro- 
portion to the worth of the doing. 
15 



230 



SELF-LOVE. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

" It is farther very much to be remarked, that neglects from in con* 
Biderateness, want of attention, not looking about us to see what we 
have to do, are often attended with consequences altogether as dread- 
ful as any active misbehaviour from the most extravagant passion." — 
Butler's Analogy, chap. ii. part i. 

It is not from Bishop Butler that we first learn this 
fact, its sad truth is continually brought home to us. 
Who has not often bewailed great disasters occasioned 
by little inattentions ; great offence given, and real 
sorrow caused, by a trifling oversight, or the heed- 
lessness of a moment ? It is not only in winding a 
skein of fine silk that one little slip leads to inex- 
tricable confusion. And, this being so well known, it 
is strange that we can be indifferent to any conscious 
failure in care and prudence. I think that even 
angels must be provoked to hear us say : " I know it 
is foolish not to do this or that, but I could not make 
up my mind to do it ;" or, " By rights I should not say 



SELF-LOVE. 



231 



or do so and so," even while the wrong is being done. 
Oh, I entreat you do not thus trifle with yourselves ! 
Unless we could command the issues of fate, we 
should dread to omit the least good or commit the 
least ill which we know to be positively good or ill ; 
for, however much chance or peculiarities of condition 
may hide their tendency, it cannot be doubted that 
on ourselves and on others good or ill will recoil 
according to the nature of our doings, and the exact 
measure of our responsibilities. 

Now any increase of perception as to what is right 
increases responsibility ; think, therefore, every time 
you say or feel "it is well to do so and so," that you 
are thenceforward pledged to do that good thing 
whenever the least opportunity for it arises; suffer 
no intentions that you have once fully approved to 
slip out of mind and die unacted amongst other 
wasted feelings ; if an intention was once good, and 
has not since been opposed by resolves of superior 
weight, see that it reaches its mark as speedily as the 
proportion of duty allows. The visible results of each 
intention are not always of such value as to prove its 



232 



SELF-LOVE. 



importance, but the results of ineffective resolves are 
so pernicious to the mind that they must by all means 
be avoided. 

How can we expect any faculty to retain its 
healthy power when it is repeatedly baffled and made 
fruitless? When the judgment has in any matter, 
ever so small, clearly pronounced "this is desirable, 
this good to seek," we hurtfully frustrate its effects in 
things of greater moment if we do nothing in conse- 
quence of that decision. It may be a trifle, as far as 
outward circumstances go, to mean to do a thing and 
yet never do it; but, if habitual, a fatal infirmity 
thereby grows upon the soul, and a discord between 
will and deed begins, which may by degrees occasion 
fearful divisions between conscience and practice. 

The lost soul of a Christian once intended to serve 
God, to deny its evil inclinations ; but intention not 
closely followed by action passes over the spirit like 
a dream, and, except for the sting of regret, none 
would know that it had been there. 

There is another consideration which is worth 
notice , whatever is evil and unwise produces evil 



SELF-LOVE. 



233 



without being prompted by bad intention ; if thij 
were not so, half the unhappiness of life would bo 
removed, for carelessness and folly are (according 
to human apprehension) even more common than 
sin. 

That it is so, let experience convince you. As a 
common instance of what I mean, take a fancy sketch 
of the consequences of a habit you or I may have of 
not doing things at the right time, nor putting things 
away in their right places. 

I will take it from a home where wealth does not 
put the cares of a maid between a lady's neglect and 
her consequent discomfort. A paper of some im- 
portance is wanted, and you know you laid it by in 
a safe place, probably in your desk, or in a letter- 
drawer ; hurrying upstairs with the precipitation of 
uncertainty, some twenty minutes after you heard 
that the document would be needed, you see the car- 
riage waiting to take you to a distance to see a lady 
about a servant for whom you are anxious to get a 
place : first the key is searched for, the papers turned 
over, very likely the ink is spilt, — a shout that "it 



234 



SELF-LOVE. 



is nearly post time'' and "the ponies are frisky n 
startling your movements. 

Happily the paper turns up, you run down, find 
Kim who waits for it vexed by delay ; — rushing up 
again, you take out your bonnet; the strings came 
off out walking in yesterday's high wind, and you 
meant to put them right at once, but something 
hindered; — your other serviceable bonnet is at the 
top of a wardrobe, and takes time to put on, because 
in your hurry every sprig and loop catches in the 
hair. Your boots happen to be without laces too ; 
and, oh ! how tiresome ! you find you have taken up 
two left-hand gloves just as you have got into the 
carriage ; but never mind, drive on, the appointment 
was made for a fixed hour, and it is already ten 
minutes past the time for meeting. You reach your 
destination but not your object ; the lady had waited 
in vain nearly an hour ; she then left and went to a 
registering office, supposing your protegee had been 
engaged, and there heard of a servant whom she 
agrees to take, and lets you know of it by the next 
day's post. You are very sorry, — pity the poor 



SELF-LOVE. 



235 



girl, — think yourself and her very unlucky, — and 
would laugh at me, perhaps, if I attributed all your 
annoyance to not doing right at the right time. 

Bad habits of every sort seem to lie in wait like 
despised enemies, ready to break out upon you at 
any minute that weakness or disadvantage exposes 
you to temporary defeat. Little infirmities can bring 
upon us great troubles. The hole in your pocket, 
through which your purse slipped out so quietly 
while you were blandly talking of the weather in a 
railway carriage, is not a flaw much more trifling, or 
much less easily mended, than the little folly, the 
slight negligence, by which your peace has so often 
been ruined. The perversity of " things-in-general " 
causes us much vexation, but I think it is from our 
own perverse contempt for the details of good ma- 
nagement that we suffer most. 

With every permitted fault or folly you infect the 
moral atmosphere of all around you in a certain 
though unmeasured degree ; and seeing the immense 
loss of good occasioned by folly and sin, the compli- 
cated misery entailed upon hundreds by the neglect 



236 



SELF-LOVE. 



or guilt of one, — seeing how not only sin and down* 
right foolishness, but weakness, ignorance, mischanoe, 
disease, and insanity combine to cause affliction for 
the innocent . as well as for the guilty, — one stands 
amazed, and asks oneself, " Is there nothing that I 
can do to put some check upon this multiplication of 
ills, so fearfully evident on all sides ? " There is ; — 
single woman, whoever you may be, however un 
helpful Destiny may seem to make you, there is one 
way by which you can infallibly promote happiness, 
and retard the growth of misery. Make yourself 
as holy, as wise, as happy, and as calm as you can ; 
and set this process before you as an object worth 
every kind of prudent self-discipline : particularly 
attend to the faintest whisper of Eeason when it says 
within you : " Here you exaggerate,— you carry that 
feeling, this pursuit too far, — check this indulgence 
of a selfish whim, this reckless devotion to mere 
amusement, for each excess tends to disordered 
thoughts and unhealthy feeling." And do not wait 
till you can adjust the warnings of Scripture to 
such trifling instances of folly ; do not disregard the 



SELF-LOVE. 



237 



inner voice because you hear no distinct accent of 
divine truth, in its pleadings; whence can warning 
come, if reasonable, but from Him who beseeches 
men to follow after "Wisdom, and take fast hold of 
her ? Even the smallest intimations of prudence are 
His gifts, and at our peril we slight them. If in our 
daily conduct we do ever overbear instincts of what 
is right and wrong, wise and foolish, we do all that 
free- willed creatures can to invite towards us evil and 
ruin. It may sound like exaggeration to say so, or 
like the gloomy representations of a morbid con- 
science ; it is not so — it is simple truth : if you will 
prove it, study your own heart and your own life, 
the comparison will bear me out in this assertion, 
and teach better than anything short of revelation. 

On the other hand, she who in everything follows 
the guidance of conscience and reason, guards her 
moral sanity ; a rare excellence, which is of incal- 
culable service in society where hundreds blindly 
submit to the direction of chance influences and 
inclination, — appearing to the thoughtful eye as 
dangerous as so many combustibles strewn about 



238 



SELF-LOVE. 



any minute a spark of wrath or passion may kindle 
a wide blaze of mischief, which the clear, calm, self 
governed soul is oftentimes able to arrest as surely 
as a fire-proof mass, upon which flames may burn 
harmlessly to slow annihilation. 

At this point an impassioned spirit will probably 
feel inclined to dismiss me from its counsels as one 
who luxuriates in impracticable theories of virtue. 
It is what all are apt to do when looking at right and 
wrong in the abstract, but truly what I now recom- 
mend is a habit applicable to everybody's practice 
You who do not doubt it may yet say, " This is alto- 
gether too laborious a system for me : I do not wish 
to fetter my good impulses by conscious control — 

1 What, joyous and free, delights in the sport of the will, 
In the fetters of duty bows drooping the flourishing head.' 

I am weary of this 1 cold dispute of what is fit,' and 
would rather trust myself a little more to the instincts 
of the heart : some souls seem to be smoothly wafted 
towards their haven by good inclinations, why should 
not mine ?" 



SELF-LOVE. 



239 



I understand that feeling ; there is much in life to 
give it the color of wisdom. In some natures impulse 
does appear to be a good guide, and conscientious 
thoughtfulness often seems to mislead ; but if there 
was even much more than there is to bring into sus- 
picion the labors of spiritual watchfulness, if I was 
unable to detect the weakness of will or of reason 
which, now and then, exposes a person of scrupulous 
conscience to unfavorable comparison with the amiable 
creature of impulse, still I cannot grant it to be an 
open question which has chosen the best way ; for no 
experience of my own could warrant me in refusing 
the way that has been chosen for us by God. In His 
word I find that righteousness, though spoken of as 
peace, is only to be obtained by hard effort and 
ceaseless perseverance, and this being expressly de- 
clared to us throughout the Holy Scriptures, it is, to 
say the least of it, highly improbable that any good 
habit should be attainable without exertion and steady 
pursuit. Now, if you assent to this with more than 
verbal belief, you will not shrink from the toil of 
ascertaining all that can be safely known of youi 



240 



SELF-LOVE. 



inner life. I say safely, not only with, reference to 
self-consciousness (which is perhaps a greater hin- 
drance to self-knowledge than any external distrac- 
tion, inasmuch as it generally results from a partial 
attention to the instincts of egotism), but with, an eye 
to error, far less common, — to that anatomising 
scrutiny of all that goes on within — that curious 
search into mysteries as much beyond human com- 
prehension as the first process of creation, to which, 
few women are addicted, but from which, all, even 
those of strongest intellect, would refrain if they 
knew how hurtful it is to waste thought in depths 
where neither reason nor revelation offer any light. 
It is not self-analysis that will kelp us ; it will 
only serve as an obstacle to wholesome action ; and 
for entire self-knowledge who would dare to ask? 
Mercy suffers us not to know "what manner of 
spirit" we are of. But what we may safely know, 
and ought to strive to know, is the present state of 
thought and feeling to which we profess to give 
utterance ; this is necessary for truth in dealing with 
other people ; and the motives that lead us to such 



SELF-LOVE. 



241 



and such expressions, and the way m which external 
objects stimulate these motives, must, if possible, be 
known for the sake of self-government. The peculiar 
weaknesses and evil tendencies of the heart must 
also be known, that we may watch against them, 
and seek especial assistance from Him who is our 
strength. 

I mention these principal branches of self-know 
ledge, as an indication of the way in which it is 
'practically useful ; not at all pretending to grasp 
the subject with comprehension adequate to its 
importance. A woman needs but a little self- 
knowledge to convince her that in touching upon 
subjects like these, she is liable to the errors of a 
superficial thinker; but it is to the surface of our 
manners as truly expressing, or habitually misrepre- 
senting the inmost life, that I would now draw your 
attention. 

Pre-supposing that you have wisdom and tact 
enough to hide from common observation such states 
of feeling as you would think it unclesi fable to show, 
and that you are also too honest deliberately to 



242 



SELF-LOVE. 



intend to deceive, I ask, how nearly do your w >rda 
and manners agree with, your real feelings? You 
say at once, "It is impossible tliat they should; 
society would be broken up if we attempted to make 
it a palace of truth." I quite agree with, you; 
human nature could not stand that test ; it needs a 
veil : but are you satisfied with society as it now is ? 
do you never call it hollow, and feel sick of its deceits, 
and very weary of the perplexities of its masquerade ? 
I do; and unless it was a common feeling, Dickens 
and Thackeray, and the many lesser satirists who 
follow in their wake, would not. I think, find so many 
delighted readers. 

But I have an obstinate hope in my heart that we 
shall not always content ourselves with laughing at 
the follies which poison society ; some people make 
a firm stand against them now, and surely the time 
must come when all that are true-hearted will dare to 
be as honest, as free from pretension, as straightfor- 
ward and clear in their outward life, as they now wish 
they could be. 

Fashion, the great tyrant of English society, has 



SELF-LOVE. 243 

been spoken of in a previous chapter; — the traitor 
that undoes some of the wisest hearts among us, — • 
persuading them to surrender themselves to the ser- 
vice of this tyrant, goes by the name of shyness or 
nervousness. What it really is, by what magic one 
insignificant human being, in no wise related to the 
real interests of another, can subdue and paralyse 
that other by being present only, is still unknown. 
Much guessing, and reasoning, and speculative sur- 
prise has been spent in consideration of this pheno- 
menon ; the wonders of mesmerism come nearest, in 
my opinion, to the wonders of shyness ; but I doubt 
if the most philosophical victim to shyness could ever 
account for it satisfactorily. 

The intensity of this strange feeling must be remem- 
bered, when we calculate upon the chances of emanci- 
pation from the yoke of fear as to what will be thought 
of us. Any overt act of resistance is almost as impos- 
sible as it is undesirable for a well-bred woman ; yet, 
as I have before tried to convince you, every gentle- 
woman can substitute truth for seeming, in great 
measure if it is her constant endeavor to make the 



SELF-LOVE. 



heart right, and the manner a fair index of the heart. 
On this point, therefore, it is most important to fix 
attention ; unless you are clearly informed of what is 
going on in the deep of your heart, you cannot be true 
or even tolerably exact in your report of it to those 
about you. 

Could there be such a disease as affectation in the 
social life of one who distinctly observed the workings 
of her undisguised nature ? If she gave herself the 
trouble to find out her own truth, could she so little 
respect it as to act and speak in defiance of its unap- 
peasable murmurs ? I doubt if counteracting influ- 
ences of any sort would overbear sincerity where it 
had been a lifelong habit; and where its requirements 
have been much neglected they may still be rescued 
from complete abeyance. If they are not, the whole 
character must go to wreck. Unhappy indeed are 
they who thus forfeit their integrity, and even those 
who have avoided conscious deceits, who have only 
got into the habit of overstating their feelings, are sure 
to suffei cruelly in the long run for their disregard of 
the secret witness within : not having trusted to it foi 



S E LF-LOVE. 



2dc 



adequate supplies of expression in a common way, at 
times when the heart's dictates would have been the 
only oracle for guiding them towards happiness, they 
are unable to catch its whispers ; hastily execute the 
suggestions of a world-taught understanding ; and then 
perhaps wonder that even by the world they are mis- 
trusted as false and shallow and despicable. I pray 
you to listen attentively to the voice of your spirit at 
all times; but especially when any clamor without 
might make it inaudible or unimpressive. Listen 
reverently, though sin and folly pollute the heart, 
in its inmost recesses is the sanctuary of the Holy 
One: listen humbly, for then He may make you to 
understand wisdom secretly, and if it is in no way 
■ contrary to the written word, or to reason, let the 
conviction that comes from within be to you as an 
oracle, 

16 



246 



SELF-LOVE. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

1 A force de sagesse on peut etre blamable ; 
II faut parmi le monde une vertu traitable." — aToliehl, 

" Time in its flight not only takes away 
Field flowers, and the forest's ornament, 
The brilliancy of youth, and its fresh power : 
Her sorest theft touches the world of thought. 
What fair and noble, rich and heavenly was, 
The value of each work, each sacrifice, 
She shows to us so colorless and void, 
So small and nought, that we are nothing too. 
Yet well for us if ashes faithfully 
Cherish the sparks ; if the deceived heart 
Retains yet pulse enough to glow anew." — Uhlaxd. 

Howevek nraeli I wander from one subject to another 
in my meditations upon spinsterhood, I have not once 
let go the clue by which I hope to emerge satisfacto- 
rily from among its various disadvantages. And the 
guiding line is this simple question, " How can an 
unmarried woman do most good?" Her happiness 
(being less certainly attainable, and less in her own 
power) is a secondary object, and must often be set 



SELF-LOVE. 



247 



aside in theory, as it is in practice, until better tilings 
are secured : and if she reverses this order, and tries 
to make sure of her own happiness before she will 
attend to that of other people, she must inevitably 
lose the good she seeks for herself and the good she 
ought to procure for them. I do not pretend that to 
be tolerably happy a woman must be free from self- 
interest, and altogether indifferent to her own comfort, 
for that is a strain of charity seldom reached by 
human nature ; but I think that unless her tendencies 
are unselfish, her chance of happiness is small. 

Now unselfishness in act is quickly detected, and 
on every side you will meet with warnings against it : 
let us who closely look into silent evils, try to explore 
the selfishness which sometimes withdraws us more 
than is well from the world we live in, to the calmer 
world of thought. A very pleasant world it is to a 
lonely woman whose mind is richer than her heart : 
there, a soft haze of indefinite musings covers the 
waste places of her life ; her own image moves there 
with gentle stateliness ; her best nature is believed in ; 
her opinions are uncontradicted ; the love of the 



248 



SELF-LOVE. 



departed shines around her tenderly ; the faults of the 
living cannot intrude, and the longer she stays in that 
quiet kingdom, the more reluctant she feels to leave 
it for the stirring world of reality. I might surprise 
her by asking, " What good do you do in that retire- 
ment of thought?" she would perhaps think it a cruel 
question, and say, "What other delight remains to 
me?" Alas! self-convicted of a similar aptness to 
forget life's duties while in search of some compensa- 
tion for its pains, its vanities, and vexations, I am not 
able to speak of a cure for such slothful tendencies 
very hopefully ; but let us face the truth : we must 
get the victory over our selfishness now or we shall be 
slaves to it until we die. It is indeed, as Mdme. de 
Stael tells us, almost unconquerable late in life. 

I know that sorrow does much to foster a dreary 
devotion to one's own comfort and gratification ; there 
are times miserably blank and cold when no motive 
is awake except the goading impulse of nature to do 
something, or a hard decree from a necessitous con- 
science. Yet even then, when heaven and earth 
seem loveless, is it not terrible to think that some 



SELF-LOVE. 



249 



young, or sorrowful, or erring hearts may be plunging 
deeper and deeper into "labyrinths of temptation,' 1 
because we are too much occupied with our own grief 
to give them the help of watchful compassion? If 
you say, "I know of none who want my help," I am 
inclined to take such an admission for proof that 
you have too much secluded yourself already ; and I 
entreat you to leave your abstract meditations, sub- 
lime and hallowed though they be, for subjects that 
press more immediately upon living interests. It is 
good advice of Moliere's, and we may accept it with- 
out offence at the terminus he assigns to thought, 
when he says that it would be as well, " ne point aller 
chercher ce qu'on fait dans la lune, et vous meler un 
peu de ce qu'on fait chez vous." To do this success- 
fully we must enter heartily into the feelings of those 
around us, and break up a great many excellent 
theories of what ought to he for the sake of giving 
our whole, patient attention to what is: particularly 
with young companions, otherwise we may share his 
fa to who 



250 



SELF-LOVE. 



' became 
Considerably uninviting 
To those who meditation slighting, 
TVere monlded in a different frame : 

And he scorned them, and they scorned him, 
And he scorned ah they did.'' 

It is true that the strange disinclination for thought 
which prevails in many circles, the shyness of any 
question leading to spiritual depths, which is often 
exhibited by people who read almost everything that 
they can get at except the workings of their own 
minds, drives inwards much of our best energy; and 
it is undeniable that very few superior minds can 
take in general society their most natural position. 
Consciousness of this inability is apt to give an air 
of haughtiness and intentional reserve which is not 
only wrong and disagreeable, but proof positive (as 
it appears to me) of something very defective in this 
same shackled intellect ; for if it had expanded a 
little farther it might have seen that it is from being 
still under the curse of Babel, as far as the language 
of thoughts is concerned, that we are so often obliged 



SELF-LOVE, 251 

to stoop to meet other minds, and not from there 
being necessarily any great inequality of mental 
power ; which is often latent in those who sneer at 
it with a sense of deficiency ; still oftener disguised 
by the impossibility of communicating ideas. We 
strive to make ourselves understood, and to speak 
forcibly, but what we say is to our neighbor ''like a 
tale of little meaning, though the words are strong." 
"We find no response to thoughts which seem to us of 
the greatest interest, and when our feelings kindle 
into rapture, we see the objects that excite them 
regarded with coldness and indifference ; and we in 
our turn are equally cold to the excitements of our 
companions. Even among real friends this often 
happens ; how much more frequently among those 
with whose modes of thought we are not familiar. 

When this separation of spirit is painfully felt, it is 
natural that the most sensitive should take refuge in 
silence, or in talk about little commonplace matters 
which do not admit* of misunderstanding; and thus it 
is often observed that those who, in common parlance, 
have ^most in them," give least evidence of theii 



252 SELF-LOVE. 

powers, and submit to the dullest exchange of trifling 
remarks with, which conversation can be burdened. 

Let this be remembered by all who suppose them- 
selves in a position to look down on the minds of 
their associates; it is not impossible that many of 
these associates, suffering from the same mistake, 
imagine that they must condescend also. 

Natural difference of ability is great and unmistake- 
able, but it never makes such a wide severance 
between one mind and another as do our false esti- 
mates of comparative strength. 

All things considered, it is perhaps well for general 
society that so few can put forth in it their full 
strength, (force in reserve is better than force over- 
strained,) and where companionship is attempted it 
is but justice that strong and quick-moving minds 
should curb vehemence and rapidity, and endeavor 
to keep pace with the weak and slow; for "it is a 
breach of the harmony of public conversation to take 
things in such a key as is above the common reach, 
puts others to silence, and robs them of their pri- 
vilege of turn." Even when the calibre of intellects 



SELF-LOVE. 253 

is equal, temperamental reserve, shyness, and indo- 
lence go far towards hiding this equality, just as 
humility and apprehension will suppress any signs of 
holy joy and exalting aims, when it is possible that 
any one present could misconstrue them as hypocrisy. 
"While we live in a world tainted by this vice, it is 
impossible that the devout soul should express itself 
in general society without some disguising restraint ; 
and those who think it their duty to attempt to do 
without it, are continually driven back into silence 
by the sheer force of non-acceptance and disapproval 
among those who hear them. 

I have dwelt upon this point with more stress than 
my main purpose absolutely required, because I think 
it essential to the happiness of single life to counter- 
act any habit which increases the feeling of isolation. 
To a certain degree this feeling is inevitable, but at 
the same time it is very liable to encroach beyond the 
limits of necessity. Allow it to do so, nourish it with 
melancholy brooclings, support it with sublime aspira- 
tions, and call it what you will, but do not doubt that 
its indulgence is unchristian. If it does not appeaj 



25i 



SELF-LOVE. 



to deserve so hard a name in your heart, judge rather 
by its evil influence on your conduct. 

You do not greatly love those whom you regard as 
spiritual aliens ; you think you pity them, but your 
pity is mingled with contempt, and seldom does any 
heart entertain contempt without being brought under 
the terrible retributive scourge of self-contempt, the 
least measure of which sours every thought; and 
then " certes there behoveth grete corage agenst ac- 
cidie, leste that it ne swallowe the soule by the sinne 
of sorrow, or distroie it by wanhope." 

Now before " accidie " brings us to this stage of 
despair, it destroys much good. "Of accidie it cometh 
first that a manne is anoied and encombred to doe 
any godenesse." Will any one with the experience 
of middle age deny that there is much in every-day 
life calculated to produce accidie ? The sweetest tem- 
pers, the most benevolent hearts, know that there is. 

Nothing more likely to cause it than the disap- 
pointing issue of many youthful schemes for doing 
good. The uneasy remembrance of having been 
misled by the deceits of the poor throws an air oi 



SELF-LOVE. 



255 



doubtful advantage over works of charity, that, but 
for this, would appear urgently needful. Those to 
whom we have spoken of religion with sanguine 
frankness, from whom we have received satisfactory 
pledges of a virtuous disposition, have turned aside to 
paths of vice and shame ; subordinates who once pro- 
fessed the warmest devotion to our service have be- 
trayed trust, or allowed themselves, in the heat of 
domestic feuds, to utter ungrateful falsehood ; and so, 
taught by these bitter lessons, we sometimes begin to 
doubt if it is of any use to try and make people 
good, or safe to trust them though apparently 
attached to us ; we feel cold and suspicious when the 
voices of the young or ignorant tremble in earnest 
protestation ; we fancy we see through the shallow- 
ness of untried constancy ; it seems safest to give up 
all hope and keep on our own way, without sym- 
pathy or concern. Ah! a strong temptation; but 
the calmness which it offers is deadly. This is not 
the peace they have who love God's law; for in 
every effort of Christian love we base our hopes on 
immutable things ; the word of God commanding us 



256 



SELF-LOVE. 



to help and sympathise, gives the command con* 
stantly to hope also, with the promise of final, and 
glorious, and everlasting recompense. Though all 
things fail us here, if in the strength of the Lord we 
labor, and rely upon his love, no amount of disap- 
pointment can make us weary of well-doing. I think 
one of the disadvantages of middle-aged people is, that 
they have had time to accumulate so many secondary 
motives ; every year experience puts before us more 
inducements for being cautious, considerate, and pru- 
dent; but at the same time it encumbers the mind 
with so many half-principles and measures of expe- 
diency, that the full force of a supreme motive, either 
for endurance or for action, is seldom felt. "We are 
too likely to be unconsciously warped by conven- 
tional notions of charity, unless we frequently recur 
to the only infallible source of wisdom ; and by sub- 
stituting worldly wisdom for simple obedience to 
God's commands, we necessarily arrive at perplexities 
which prompt first to temporary, and then to habitual 
inaction. It is true that the decisions of worldly 
wisdom must not be slighted, but neither may they 



SELF-LOVE. 



257 



be submitted to as authoritative : and I think it must 
be allowed that when we give both due attention to 
them, and willing obedience to the law of Christian 
charity, we still find many and serious perplexities 
from which there is no evident escape. 

In the present day I believe it is often from weari- 
ness of vainly trying to dispose of these perplexities, 
that the poor are so often neglected by people of 
thoughtful minds. Must we not confess that in some 
moods we are as regardless of the lower orders as of 
the inhabitants of the stars ; the needs and sufferings 
of the poor seeming almost as unlimited, and as far 
removed from our cognisance, as the nature of spirits 
in unknown worlds ? 

And when we hear of the extreme misery that 
lurks on all sides, it seems too boundless and too in- 
tricate for any human agency to relieve, we think — • 

" The judgment angel scarce could find his way- 
Through such a heap of generalised distress, 
To the individual man with lips and eyes I" 

Thus the little charity we have is deadened by the 
enormous demands made upon it ; and just as the 



258 SELF-LOVE. 

brain becomes drowsy when overtasked, so tlie heart 
seems to grow torpid from excessive stimulus. But 
it ouglit not to affect us thus ; if we sedulously at- 
tended to such, good works as lay nearest to us, we 
should probably escape from any paralysing observa- 
tion of infinite need, and as our labors increased with 
our insight, a patient zeal would also increase, and the 
heart be quieted by submissive love. Now as the 
widest range of beneficent exertions must begin from 
a narrow point, it greatly concerns every woman to 
know how she may best do her least kindnesses. 

How well this is understood by the majority of 
those who give themselves to works of mercy we 
cannot fail to perceive ; and I persuade myself that 
every one must know some women whose lives seem 
to be as bountiful and full of blessings as the sunlight 
which brings comfort alike to the stately mansion, and 
the cheerless, naked cottage.* The quiet mercy of 

* " Since half the duty of a Christian in this life consists in the 
exercise of passive graces, and the infinite variety of Providence, 
and the perpetual adversity of chances, and the dissatisfaction and 
emptiness that are in things themselves, and the weariness and 



SELF-LOVE. 259 

such women is helping throughout England to knit 
together in kindly union the rich and the poor of ail 
classes ; but I am afraid we have also too many oppor- 
tunities of learning that this is not the invariable 
result of well-intended charities. 

anguish of our spirit, clo call us to the trial and exercise of pa- 
tience, even in the days of sunshine, and much more in the 
violent storms that shake our dwellings, and make our heart3 
tremble, God hath sent some angels into the world whose office 
it is to refresh the sorrows of the poor, and to lighten the eye3 
of the disconsolate ; He hath made some creatures whose pow- 
ers are chiefly ordained to comfort. . . . Certain it is that 
as nothing can better do it, so there is nothing greater, for which 
God made our tongues, next to reciting His praise, than to mi- 
nister comfort to a weary soul. And what greater measure can 
we have than that we should bring joy to our brother, who with 
his dreary eyes looks to heaven and round about, and cannot 
find so much rest as to lay his eyelids close together ; than that 
thy tongue should be tuned with heavenly accents, and make 
the weary soul to listen for light and ease, and when he per- 
ceives that there is such a thing in the world, and in the order 
of things, as comfort and joy, to begin to break out from the 
prison of his sorrow at the door of sighs and tears, and by little 
and little, melt into showers and refreshment ?. This is glory ta 
thy voice, and employment fit for the brightest angel" — Jsft 
Taylor's Sermon on the Duties of the Tongue, 



• 



260 SELF-LOVE. 

I suspect that there must be something amiss in 
our manner of mixing with poor people ; some unrea- 
sonable habit of appealing to sentiments not likely 
to influence the uneducated ; some mode of treating 
them which better suits our theories than their facts, 
or the laudable efforts of district visitors could never 
appear to be fruitless; very much good is done by 
them, yet in some cases one has to regret the labors 
of well-meaning women as being most unfortunately 
misapplied, seeming to combine with " fdssiness," 
love of power, and vanity, as readily as do the more 
frivolous exertions of skill in support of fancy bazaars, 
— which, if necessary at all, I cannot but regard as 
necessary evils. 

I fear that we often fail in being of use among our 
poor friends from our ignorance of human nature 
allowing us to trample upon tendencies which we 
think useless, out of the question, or highly unde- 
sirable among poor people. Granting that they are 
all this, — pride and wilfulness, and the touchiness of 
dependants, for instance, — yet by ignoring such feel- 
ings you do not get rid of them, you only increase 



SELF-LOVE. 



261 



them tenfold, and, perhaps, if you were in the place 
of those you wish to relieve, you might be so absurd 
as to prefer the enjoyment of uninjured self-respect to 
having a few shillings more, useful as they might be, 
— so singular as to think poverty an evil great enough 
without the additional plague of interference. "La 
charite," says Victor Cousin, "est sou vent le com- 
mencement et 1' excuse, et toujours le prdtexte des 
usurpations. Pour avoir le droit de s'abandonner 
aux mouvements de la charite, il faut s'etre affermi 
contre soi-meme dans un long exercice de la justice.' ' 
Again, as to gratitude, since it is notorious that gra- 
titude is seldom found in any proportion to the good 
received, but always in proportion to the good feelings 
• of the recipient, will it not be well to leave off expect- 
ing a due recognition of your benefits ? " For the 
sake of the recipient," you say, "I wish to see it.' ? 
Yes, truly, but remember that, 

" Little can the rich man guess 
The poor man's utter poverty." 

Did you know it, you would not, perhaps, think youi 
17 



262 



SELF-LOVE. 



benefits so striking, and I am sure yon would not 
wonder that the poor creatures, who have often need 
of all things, seemed so apathetic when you proffered 
a little help. For your own sake it would be wel 
that you should neither look nor care for gratitude : a 
good deed of any sort should be pure from selfish 
motive ; and I think that if you can do good things 
judiciously, without verbally or tacitly expressing a 
demand for gratitude, or a sense of self-importance, 
you should by all means do them; but if not, it 
might be questioned whether it is not better to leave 
them alone ; the good gained for other people can 
hardly be precious enough to outweigh the evil and 
temptation laid up for them, as well as for yourself, 
by exploits that nourish your own vain glory. 

The giving of admonition is, perhaps, the most dif- 
ficult sort of charity, but it is one in which a single 
woman ought to be particularly successful. Being, 
as I shall presume, seldom able to indulge the love of 
authority, (which, be it remembered, is attributed to 
weak characters,) she is in a position where the work- 
ings of human nature are far more easily learned than 



SELF-LOVE. 



26? 



tliey can be from a post of domestic government. An 
observant woman, without authority, sees many of 
the behind scenes of human nature, and if she does 
not know how to reach some of its most hidden springs 
she has abused a great privilege; Unfortunately, all 
are not observant ; those who rush to give advice, 01 
to rebuke without extreme caution, fail of course, and 
generally effect something worse than failure. "When 
it is necessary to blame, it is strange what a great dif- 
ference mav be made bv very trifling varieties of tone 
and manner. A touch of heartfelt tenderness, when 
duty extorts from us severe reproof, and a change of 
expression slightly different from that which rises to 
the lips when small defects must be commented upon, 
makes sometimes, to another heart, all the difference 
between resentment and meek acceptance. Instead 
of "What a pity you did so and so!' 7 "You did 
quite wrong then," to say, "You might do this bet- 
ter," " I think vou would be more satisfied with your- 
self if you made such and such an improvement," is a 
little thing ; but what trifle is too small to irritate or 
soothe the delicate texture of self-love ? One might 



264 



SELF-LOVE. 



compare tlie mistakes often made in this direction tc 
the blunder of a person, who, wishing to summon 
another from an upper room, repeatedly rings the bell 
which communicates with a lower one, and so calls up 
a very different character. We want to awaken con- 
viction, or to call up industry ; but if we speak in a 
tone that almost always rouses the temper, or stimu- 
lates fear, the appeal is mischievously vain. Let us 
try the right bell, and our transactions will be more 
successful. One more suggestion; when you give 
advice, be greatly on your guard against an implied 
sense of superior virtu 3 and holiness, to which a life 
devoted to the Christian profession may possibly tempt 
you. Beware of thinking yourself necessarily so 
advanced in goodness, as that you may dictate on 
points of conscience, and arbitrate as to what is right 
or wrong for another soul. For this you can have no 
warrant 



SELF-LOVE. 



265 



CHAPTER XV. 

" I am not so vain to think that in the matter of devotion, and the 
rules of justice and religion (which is the business of your life), I can 
add anything to your heap of excellent things : but I have known 
and felt comfort by reading, or hearing from other persons what I knew 
myself; and it was inactive upon my spirit till it was made vigorous 
and effective from without. And in this sense I thought I might not 
be useless and impertinent.'' 

Jer. Taylors Dedication to the 11 Life of Christ." 

To add to your lieap of excellent tilings is not my 
ambition, but what I have felt the need of myself 
I am very desirous to help you to find. I have 
often longed to be able to concentrate upon my own 
heart the various incentives to holiness which are so 
abundantly supplied by every religious book, and 
every example of a really Christian life ; and I have 
found it difficult to do so ; not so much because these 
incentives often seem to oppose one another from a 
wide difference of nature, but from their claims upon 
my conscience being apparently so equal, that I knew 



266 



SELF-LOVE. 



not which, it would be best to yield to with, the assent 
of habitual application. 

To free my remarks from the obscurity that always 
accompanies any abstract thought to which, we are 
unused, I will give an instance of the difficulty in 
question. Suppose, that in some season of spiritual 
torpor, I recall a time when the interests of my soul 
occupied me more than now they do ; when I knew 
myself to be more fervent in spirit than I now am, 
and that being thus roused by fears of backsliding, I 
set myself to search, for means of grace. The bosom 
sin that has been allowed to gain ground must be 
fought against more vigorously ; prayer must be more 
earnest, the reading of Grod's word more assiduous; 
all this is certain, but by what spring shall these 
instruments of grace be put in motion? By divine 
grace ? No doubt ; but it rests with us to " stir up " 
ourselves to " lay hold on righteousness," and my 
heart feels cold and dead. What my intellect inquires 
for is the most efficacious stimulants, and so long as 
the light of reason is vouchsafed to me I cannot 
believe that faith and prayer (though patient and 



4 



SELF-LOVE. 



267 



incessant) is all that devolves upon my ever-stirring 
spirit in tlie working out of salvation to which. I am 
exhorted. Neither can I think it right to limit my 
attention to the teaching of inspired writers, though 
the Bible contains "all things necessary to salvation," 
because I see that the Almighty Will, ever working 
by the instrumentality of subordinate agents, suffers 
a wonderful degree of influence to be transmitted to 
us through human minds. I know, as an indisputable 
fact, that the spirit within us is gradually moulded 
and turned in this or in that direction by the per- 
mitted power of our fellow-creatures, and that I am, 
therefore, responsible for my choice of companions, 
whether those that speak in the body, or those who 
address me with the more careful eloquence of written 
language. To whom, then, shall I give a hearing, 
when it is all important that I should be guided 
aright? Here, in the book-shelves, are the select 
opinions of some of the wisest and most holy men; 
evidently they were as anxious to teach as I to learn 
what agrees with Eevelation and does not contradict 
Reason. 



268 



SELF-LOVE. 



But I find their counsels do not coincide, and even 
on material points their testimony is sometimes con- 
flicting. For instance, here are some exhorting me 
vehemently to more entire dependence on a Saviour's 
mediation; these tell me that my declensions in holi- 
ness are caused by imperfect faith ; that I am going 
about to establish my own righteousness, and forget 
that in the propitiation of Jesus is my only hope of 
acceptance. Alas ! am I taking any care of my 
righteousness when I so often commit the sin which I 
feel to be exceeding sinful and abhorrent to the Holy 
One, whose forgiving mercy I dishonor by my broken 
promise and too ready assurance of unconditional par- 
don? I find a more suitable tone of advice in another 
volume ; it speaks home to my heart, for it is full of 
a thrilling outcry against sin ; yet, as I read, it strikes 
me that Christian contrition would hardly justify the 
expressions of joyless humiliation which I meet with, 
here. The writer seems to think that a mournful, 
life-long penitence (and I suspect him of recommend- 
ing penance too) is the state of being which it behoves 
us to desire ; and, not having a melancholy tempera 



SELF-LOVE. 



2G3 



ment, I quickly shut the book ; and while several 
scripture promises cross my mind with sweet encou- 
ragement, I determine that a repentant sinner could 
not have written more despairingly, w T ith regard to 
this life, had Christ not died. 

Taking clown a few more books, I put aside, as 
inapplicable to my need, those which lay so much 
stress upon moral discipline and intellectual develop- 
ment as the means of securing happiness, that one 
doubts if their authors ever seriously contemplated a 
deeper want than the want of happiness, or a darker 
fear than the dread of disordered impulse. They 
seem to have such a superficial acquaintance with the 
human heart as to be still ignorant of its inherent 
apprehensions, still regardless of the cry that arises 
ever and anon from a fallen creature, " What shall I 
do to be saved V It is an excellent work to labor 
to bring every pow r er of heart and mind to its destined 
perfection ; such writers as these can often help me 
in the difficult process, and at other times I study 
them with due respect ; just now it is not the deve- 
lopment of what I have, that I so earnestly seek, but 



270 



SELF-LOVE. 



the attainment, nay, the perception, of what I am 
miserably without My spirit seems to stand aloof 
from its God, and I ask of those who have gone 
before, by what means were you enabled to cleave 
steadfastly unto Him ? " By an obedient use of 
Church ordinances," some thoughtful and holy people 
would reply ; "we once felt all you feel ; we were 
uncertain and wavering between divers impulses, 
emotions, theories, all withdrawn from the direction 
of authoritative guides, and, therefore, we were 
wretched; we felt and thought as solitary individuals, 
and were, therefore, deprived of harmonious action in 
the fellowship of Christ's Church ; we had no inter- 
preter of Cod's Will — His word alone was insufficient; 
until the happy day came when we were awakened to 
the knowledge of privileges, already possessed, but 
abused by neglect, and therefore despised ; now, pre- 
cious to our souls, and securing a peace to which we 
could in no other way attain!" 

With partial assent I read, or listen to declarations 
like this ; I observe that the regular recurrence of ap- 
pointed duties necessitates a degree of calm to the 



SELF-LOVE. 



271 



obedient mind, which, self-imposed rules eauld not 
establish ;— there are few people who can altogether 
slight the support of " the Comforter of all the weak, 
— Rule" and I cordially respond to expressions of 
gratitude for the admirable constitution of our English 
church, believing, as I do, that it is difficult ade- 
quately to value the blessings it has conveyed to us 
during many past centuries; which, by timely and 
gentle amendments may, I trust, be secured to our 
country for ages to come, in spite of all that now 
threatens. But unless I could also assert that attend- 
ing daily service, and observing fast days, and keep- 
ing saints' days holy, brought me consolation and rest, 
I should not satisfy those who would thank God for 
their church-membership more fervently than for any 
other mercy bestowed upon them. As I think it is 
obviously undesirable in these days to bring into com- 
parison greater or less degrees of filial affection to our 
Church, I shall not attempt to satisfy a reader who 
may think that I ought to excuse the admission here 
made; but I will try to explain why I can give only 
a partial assent to those who say that obedience to 



272 



SELF-LOVE. 



ecclesiastical regulations supplies unfailing stimulus 
and support to the soul. Without presuming to de- 
cide upon a question so much above my powers of 
iudfffiaent I mav confess what I tliink to be true, j 
do not find this obedience enough for ray soul's need, 
because it is an obedience that may be external 
only, and therefore, unless the spirit is continually 
quickened by some other means, this obedience may 
deceive us ; it may simulate religious life long after 
its vitality is extinct. But what power can suffice to 
preserve vitality ? That to which the inspired writers 
so confidently appeal — the power of Love. This, and 
this alone, can meet my difficulties ; it can touch me 
to the quick in every conceivable distress which does 
not rob me of faith. " Tlie Lord is loving unto every 
man: 1 Here I find consolation in its simplest and 
most unconditional form; the heart that responds 
with the faintest gratitude to such an assurance cannot 
fail to observe the emphasis given throughout Scrip- 
ture to the reiterated declarations of God's love. I 
need not quote passages in the Bible which must 
have been familiarised by your personal experience, 



SELF-LOVE. 



273 



I shall take it for granted that at your age you can 
say from the heart, "We love Him because He first 
loved us and yet, while most fully believing that 
He does love us, we often fail in happiness, and 
linger in the race. 

When speaking of the love of God, and of the com- 
munion with Him which results from love, I fear lest 
a tone of presumptuous confidence should mark my 
endeavors to rescue that exceeding honor from 
neglect. Let it be understood that with deepest 
reverence I speak of the transcendent mercy which 
enjoins us to feel such love, and delight in such 
communion. 

Those oft-used words, " the fellowship of the Holy 
Ghost," startle me sometimes as I use them; as if an 
incredible degree of condescension to human nature 
was implied; — and it is the irreverence of coldly 
passing over the amazing possibility of divine 
fellowship which I now seek to combat. If this pos- 
sibility had not been distinctly revealed, few among 
us would dare to imagine it : but on that point God 
has uttered His voice, and we know that if indeed 



274 



SELF-LOVE. 



we live unto Him, with Him we liave communion. 
Greater honor and more inexhaustible comfort could 
not be offered to the creature ; yet by how few among 
us is it so esteemed ; a cold and barren belief of the 
mind only keeping up a recognition that this com- 
munion may be, side by side with these abatements, 
— " human nature is weak andean seldom attain to 
it, — enthusiasts have thought it essential, and in times 
of great excitement we may all know a supernatural 
kind of exaltation, but it would be absurd to expect 
this for a continuance in people of calm dispositions." 

Do not suffer yourselves to be beguiled by the 
plausible half-truths that are ever afloat in civilised 
society. Consult the Bible faithfully, and you will 
see that no child of God need be excluded from an 
almost unbroken consciousness of the presence of 
God. We think of the spiritual state of holy men 
of old as of that to which we cannot reach, but why 
may not every one of us "walk with God?" Are 
not 2 yrom ^ ses vouchsafed to us of the indwelling 
spirit of God, which nothing but our own rebellions, 
our own paltry little idols, can render ineffective ? 



If you forfeit your hopes of this fellowship (especially 
you who, feeble and saddened by an isolated posi- 
tion, have only the prospects of lonely old age), you 
forfeit bliss, and leave the heart exposed to powerful 
and merciless assailants ; you submit to miserable 
alienation from the pitiful God who is ever present ; 
who is able to satiate the weary soul, and replenish 
every sorrowful soul. 

And what deprives you of a comfortable sense of 
His presence ? Is it want of faith — a half-belief in 
revealed truth? or a divided heart, an incomplete 
surrender of the will ? Search, and spare no labor 
of self-examination till you can detect what secret 
sin or spiritual blindness accounts for this depriva- 
tion. It may be that curious mixture of sense and 
nonsense which we call worldlings ; vanity it may be, 
or mere frivolity ; a fluttering attention to insignificant 
things, an habitual dislike of whatever is serious, or 
some little flaw in conduct, such as daily excess in 
any one indulgence ; for the least habitual sin may 
grow to a great hindrance. And when once you have 
found what unholy thing it is that separates your 



276 



SELF-LOVE. 



spirit from its God, implore Him for strength, to put 
it away. 

In temptation to sin, or in definite sorrow, we have 
immediate recourse to prayer ; these troubles we are 
used to bring before the Most High ; but in the dis- 
consolate blanks of life, when the heart and mind 
yearn for closer sympathy than any their best earthly 
friends can offer, when beauty calls the heart away 
from works of daily routine, and in its rapture it per- 
ceives that this beauty, whether of cloud, or sunset, or 
flower, is more closely related to it than all the recog- 
nised interests of life ; and that among these it is indeed 
a stranger often sighing for home, — in all the unex- 
pected seizures of despair, when in a cheerful party, 
or among chosen friends, we are convinced by our 
own feelings of the impossibility of finding happiness 
in any other way than in the strict performance of 
duty, — in all these crises of being we feel too often 
as if we were utterly alone, as if the compassionate 
Father, who hears us when we ask for daily bread, 
would scorn or overlook the prayer of a perplexed 
soul for spiritual companionship, — for some foretaste 



SELF-LOVE. 



277 



of its anticipated perfection, — for even the smallest 
measure of true joy. This trick of faithlessness is 
without warrant. Doubtless the Creator has respect 
to the hunger and thirst of our immortal spirits, and 
will give us even here a plenteousness of all they 
need, if we simply go to Him and ask in humble faith 
for all that can be granted to us during probation 
without lessening our hopes of future glory. A few 
words, a sigh, raised to the Saviour who has been 
vexed, and wearied, and saddened, in this same toil- 
some world; and a meek endeavor to rejoice because 
He would have us to do so, and because we have, 
written in our hearts, the tidings of great joy which 
He sent, surely to all these would a secret answer be 
given, and we should know that we have at all times 
(not only in trouble), a very present help. We should 
then cease to indulge in that aimless sentimentality 
of grief, which, addressing itself neither to Grod nor 
man, gains nothing but fresh bursts of self-pity, and 
puts farther from us the wholesome views of life by 
which we must frame our conduct if we would die in 

peace after a busy and well spent day. 
18 



278 



SELF-LOVE. 



"Let us be hearty and of good courage therefore, 
and thoroughly comfort ourselves in the Lord." If 
He hears us whensoever we cry to Him, He will be 
attentive to the voice of our hearts in times of cheer- 
ful enjoyment and active work : when we read, or 
write, or walk, or feed our sense of sight and of hear- 
ing with the delights of which He has made us 
capable. Why then do not our hearts continually 
talk with Him ? 

A young child can ill bear prolonged absence from 
those who cherish it ; we altogether withdraw our 
thoughts for hours at a time from the Giver of all our 
good things ; but it is only since the Fall that the 
love of God has been less natural in man than the 
clinging affection of a child to its parent; and we 
know that " the spirit of adoption whereby we cry 
Abba, Father " is again granted to us ; you must not 
therefore allow yourself to think that I have been 
proposing an unnatural state of feeling. "L'entiere 
observation des commandemens de Dieu n'est pas dang 
1'enclos des forces humaines, mais elle est bien pour- 
tant dans les confins de Tinstinct de l'esprit humain, 



SELF-LOVE. 



279 



comme tr&s-conforme a la raison et lumiere naturelle ; 
de sorte que, yivant selon les commandemens de Dieu, 
nous ne sommes pas pour cela hors de notre inclina- 
tion naturelle."* 

* Francois de Sales. 



280 SELF-LOVE. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

"Ah, Lord! do not withdraw, 

Lest want of awe 

Make sin appear ; 
And, when Thou dost but shine less clear, 

Say that Thou art not here. 

" And then, what life I have 

(While sin doth rave, 

And falsely boast 
That I may seek, but Thou art lost), 

Thou, and alone Thou, know'st. 

"Oh! what a deadly cold 

Doth me infold ! 

I half believe 
That Sin says true. But while I grieve, 

Thou com'st, and dost relieve." 

George Herbert. 

I do not wish to keep out of sight those facts in our 
spiritual life which make it impossible to say that in 
every frame of mind such and such truths will afford 
unfailing comfort. It would be a very happy thing 
if we could honestly say so ; if we could declare that 
the blessedness of communion with God surpasses 



SELF-LOVE. 



281 



all other happiness ; that compared to this all other 
joys are cold: but if, as I think, we should thus speak 
more of our preconceived notions as to how we were 
intended to feel than of what we really do feel, would 
anything be gained by the exaggeration ? The cause 
of religion certainly loses much by any profession that 
can be called a mere figure of speech, for by such 
means it is brought into discredit with searching 
minds ; these naturally suspect every cause which is 
weak enough to need the aid of rhetoric. And so 
long as our belief is determined by the revelations of 
the Spirit of truth, no human testimony in its favor 
which goes beyond truth, either from folly or dis- 
tempered zeal, can be acceptable to that holy Spirit, 
or serviceable to erring man. 

Now the assertion that divine influence, as mortals 
feel it, is more rejoicing than human love ; intercourse 
with an invisible God sweeter to the heart than fellow- 
ship with a beloved human being, is true under certain 
conditions, but it is hardly wise to put it forward as a 
truth to which every heart can bear witness. Every 
sanctified heart may truly confess that there is more 



282 



SELF-LOVE. 



blessedness and peace in this hallowed communion 
than in any other, and that it is far greater happiness 
than any which excludes remembrance of divine love; 
but does any one dare to say that this, and occasional 
rapture in prayer, varying the calmness of devout 
resignation, is to the heart of man, or woman, wholly 
a satisfying compensation for that fulness of happy 
love which makes each hour of a beloved one's pre- 
sence the delight of hope, the treasure of memory, 
the temporary lull of all dissatisfaction while it lasts? 
Is the visible, audible presence of those we love so 
small a boon? "Was the Creator making a false reckon- 
ing for our happiness when He put into each heart an 
indestructible yearning for human fellowship ? Let 
us not think so — let us be very slow to bring into 
contrast feelings which the word of God seldom 
places in opposition — never requiring us to be un- 
natural, but only superior to nature whenever it 
resists divine law ; commanding us to love God 
supremely, but to love our fellow-creatures very 
greatly too. 

The common abuse of this permission by inordinate 



SELF-LOVE. 



283 



affections proves nothing against tlieir rights within 
measure ; and those who are guilty of the " grande 
folie de vouloir etre sage d'une sagesse impossible," 
who try to exterminate all natural emotions, that they 
may offer to God the sacrifice of an unearthly life, 
must surely think that He has made a great deal in 
vain both in the hearts and destinies of his children. 
But, whatever they may think, all experience teaches 
that " il est mal sur d'anticiper en ce monde sur les 
droits de la mort, et de r6ver Tetat des saints quand 
la vertu seule nous est imposde, et quand la vertu est 
deja si rude a accomplir, meme tr&s-imparfaitement.''* 

Of those conditions which most seriously abate 
religious joy, each soul has of course its own particu- 
lar knowledge. I shall only refer to those which 
have caused me most perplexity from their being, 
as it seemed, not immediately the effects of sin. 

There are — it would be cruel folly to leave them 
out of consideration — times of such overwhelming 
grief that the soul passing though them would answer 
to every assurance of the possibility of religious joy, 
* Victor Cousin. 



284 



SELF-LOVE. 



" I cannot feel it" A person in this state becomes 
aware of the mystery of grief, and would look at the 
most powerful arguments of comfort, as only so many- 
varied proofs of her peculiar wretchedness, since they 
fail to comfort her : she would cry out in bitterness, 
" I believe in the love of God, it is as much as I can 
do by the greatest stretch of faith ; to feel it is not in 
my power." Yet even then, when " the poor soul 
out of the depth cries, and cries aloud, as if her Father 
were out of hearing" — when by the inscrutable pur- 
pose of the Almighty, we lie prostrate in darkness, 
ready for the enemy to insult with terrible suggestions 
of unbelief, even then let us take the words that God 
has given us, and plead with Him still. Though 
noways uttered, except by sighs and groans, the peti- 
tion of the feeblest believer will not be disregarded. 

Scripture has recognised this state of apparent de- 
sertion, one holy prophet has complained, "Verily, 
thou art a God that hidest thyself, God of Israel, 
the Saviour," and another, that "the hope of Israel, 
the Saviour thereof in time of trouble," seemed as one 
"that turneth aside to tarry for a night:" "as a man 



SELF-LOVE. 



285 



astonied, as a mighty man that cannot save." And 
since their time the faith of devout men has occasion- 
ally faltered, and they have been confounded at the 
woe and evil which Omnipotent God will not avert, 
and have remained dumb with astonishment, almost 
believing that "He taketh no knowledge" of the 
exceeding misery of man. 

Probably we all know something of the blackness 
of that night which seems to hide our anguish from 
His pity ; but we know also that its darkness is no 
darkness with Him, and that in those fearful times 
when our soul's anchor appears to be cut adrift, 
and all our treasures thrown out to the fury of a 
pitiless storm, He clearly discerns all our affliction 
and all our dismay, and is as near and as mighty to 
save, when the due time of trouble is ended, as He 
seems to be in those calm hours of prayer when be- 
fore we have done speaking He answers, and infuses 
comfort more than equal to the sorrow which has but 
wetted the cheek, and intensified the ardor of sup- 
plication. 

Alas ! we know all this ; God grant that when the 



266 



SELF-LOVE. 



dark hour conies we may feel it ! " How easy a tiling 
it is for a man to teacli and comfort other men, and 
how hard a thing it is for a man to teach and comfort 
himself in the promises of God," for " beware of des- 
pair can every man say, but to eschew despair in 
great conflicts of mind is an hard matter." 

If there is a crisis in the Christian's life still more 
threatening than this, it is that state which has been 
designated as " religious syncope." 

Almost worse than woe is the profound indifference 
to all holy things that will at times steal over us ; a 
deadly chill, which though no doubt attributable in 
great measure to the workings of sin, does not bear 
any proportion to sin consciously committed. This 
indifference, without prompting to rebellion against 
the law of God, such as extreme sorrow sometimes 
suggests, opens the way to any sin for which there 
is present inclination ; and while it lasts prayer seems 
to be mechanical, praise and thanksgiving a mere 
farce. 

I hope that there may be less guilt in these moods 
than is generally supposed by people who feel them 



SELF-LOVE. 287 

most painfully: insensibility, whether of heart or 
mind, it is not always in our power to remove ; but I 
tliink that a strong effort of mind to recall the impres- 
sion of any signal mercy, any one particular occasion 
in our lives, in which peril has been escaped, or prayer 
distinctly answered, might be of great avail in rousing 
the conscience and warming the heart. Besides these 
most distressing states of feeling, and those much 
more frequent of 

" Nature's ebbs, which, lay the soul in chains, 
Beneath weak nerves, and ill-sufficing veins/' 

which I do not enter upon here, — supposing that for 
mere depression of spirits every one's common sense 
will supply the simple remedies of patience, recrea- 
tion, and bodily repose, — there are moods resulting 
from external influences, during which it is almost as 
difficult to feel spiritual joy as it is in times of great 
dejection, or utter numbness of feeling; for example, 
the temper of mind to which we may naturally bo 
brought by forced association with an underbred and 
obtrusive person. 



288 



SELF-LOVE. 



This may not affect better people as much as it 
does me; it tempts me, I confess, to feelings of 
repugnance. 

It is worse than mere irritation to be every minnte 
combating a dislike that appears 30 inexcusably dis- 
proportionate to its cause; while justice, as well as 
charity, obliges one to cover the struggle with smiles 
and suavity, at the very time when you long to make 
some demonstration of dislike such as might rid you 
for life from a recurrence of the trial, with one in- 
dividual at least, I say it is worse than irritation, 
because thai one knows to be almost entirely the 
effect of one's own infirmity, but in this case (though 
impatient dislike reveals quite as much weakness) it 
seems less faulty; for no mood can be sweeter than 
that which is now and then disturbed by the presence 
of a really vulgar mind ; and it is not easy at once to 
recall a text of the Bible, or a thought calculated to 
make you feel kindly, and appear courteous towards 
one who asks an impertinently carious question, with 
loud tones, strong emphasis, and incorrect pronun 
ciation. 



# 

SELF-LOVE. 289 

It is quite possible to remember the goodness of 
heart that may make such a questioner dear to all 
those who are used to his or her manners ; it is as 
practicable as doing our duty, to feel that such a one 
is dear to the Lord who differently disposes the cir- 
cumstances of our lives ; but it is next to impossible 
to feel at will a serener joy in holy thoughts while 
every perception is pained. 

Those who say we ought not to feel repugnance, 
because it is a fellow-Christian who tempts us to feel 
it, might say, I think, with equal wisdom, that we 
ought not to dislike the taste of wormwood, because 
it comes from a plant that God has made. " Sensa- 
tion is sensation,"* and neither faith nor charity will 
wholly overbear its verdict; but, for counteracting 
the evils arising from disagreeable companionship, I 
believe there is nothing so powerful as a humble 
remembrance of the presence of God. To compare 

* " Dr. Johnson owned to me that he was fatigued and teased 
by Sir A. doing too much to entertain him. I said it was all 
kindness. Johnson. — 1 True, sir, but sensation is sensation.' " — 
Boswell's Life of Johnson 



290 



SELF-LOVE. 



little things with great, I beg you to remember the 
, effect that the presence of a friend, whom you deeply 
love and venerate, will have upon your behavior 
under provocations. By being present only, such a 
friend will exalt your feelings above chagrin, will 
hold in check your impatience, and stimulate your 
warmest charity; the simple fact that he or she is 
looking on, seeing the cause of your annoyance, and 
appreciating your self-command, generally insures a 
degree of sweetness of temper that might not otherwise 
be felt. The comparison need not be farther insisted 
on. He who ever sees us has had His habitation 
among the sons of men ; He submitted to be within 
reach of their strife of tongues, among the vulgar 
and presumptuous He moved, suffering Himself to 
be continually assailed by " little men, greatly mali- 
cious:" and can you think that "He that is perfect 
in knowledge " forgets all this ? Surely no : surely 
when pricked and exasperated by the most insigni- 
ficant thorns of daily life, we may turn to Him, and 
say, with grateful reverence, "Thou understandest 
my thoughts." 



SELF-LOVE. 



291 



There is another kind of spiritual chill that is 
hard to understand, and, till it is understood, still 
harder to remedy: it is a coldness about religion 
which we sometimes feel, when in close companion- 
ship with people more advanced in godliness than 
we are ourselves. This is very mortifying, and seems 
strangely unlike what one would have expected ; it 
cannot be said that we envy the grace of God in 
other souls, while we earnestly desire it for them in 
the abstract; it is not that we suspect them of insin- 
cerity because their expressions refer to a state of feel- 
ing more holy than our own, for we have learned 
from experience the mistake made by those who 
do this with regard to ourselves, when any sign of 
our poor and cold affections appears to them impro- 
bably devout ; we quite believe these exalted spirits 
are truly all they seem to be, yet beside them ours 
often flag. 

To explain this requires more knowledge of the 
human heart than I possess. I call it the effect of 
antagonism, but from what that arises I am ignorant. 
Possibly, when in this case it is roused, self-love 



292 



SELF-LOVE. 



has been grieved, and hope paralysed by our being 
made aware of comparative deficiency. Possibly, 
tlie fear of being hurried, by a wish to sympathise, 
into modes of speech too forcible for perfect truth, 
makes us draw back even from that position in 
spiritual life to which we are habituated: possibly 
we are influenced by a well-grounded suspicion that 
devout sentiment may sway the mind with which we 
are brought in contact, towards extreme and unde- 
sirable conclusions; these and many other feelings 
may obscurely work upon us, and by their combined 
force they may occasion the indevout mood of which 
I complain ; but I think that we should be more able 
to revive pious emotion by prayer, than by any 
exertion of intellect for the purpose of detecting 
where our error lay. 

Warmth would be more likely to return to the 
uneasy heart if we made our want of feeling the 
subject of simple confession and undisguising 
prayer. 

Speaking of this want to a lenient and clear- 
sighted friend, we should probably say: "It seems 



SELF-LOVE. 



293 



very wrong, but I cannot feel at all just now ; these 
ecstatic thanksgivings fall coldly on my heart. I do 
not feel astonished at the mercy of God towards me, 
nor do I feel so very wicked, — penetrated, as these 
people say, with a sense of my un worthiness. I see 
that my faults are very natural, and in consideration 
of my disadvantages and weakness they seem to me 
very pardonable too: and how then can I join in 
expressions that misrepresent my feelings ? In truth, 
if / quoted these rapturous, triumphant hymns, I 
think I should be mocking the Almighty with deceit. 
Blame me if you will, but I could not forgive myself 
if I adopted a tone which for me is overstrained and 
false." 

And would a wise friend blame ? I think not. I 
believe that even man's wisdom would answer: "You 
do well to refuse to simulate piety, — well to face con- 
trasts of feeling which prove your soul to be in an 
attitude different from that of your neighbors, — well 
at all risks to keep to truth: yet remember that the 
Spirit of truth warrants the expressions on which 

you comment to be suitable in the mouth of man ; 
19 



294 



SELF-LOYE. 



and remember also that you may gradually be led 
by that Spirit to use the same with entire sincerity. 
In the meanwhile it is your duty to conform to 
usage, where Church authority prescribes a form; 
and to abstain from using it (if contradictory to 
your feelings) when it is not enjoined, and when 
you can do so without offending a fellow- Christian. 
But at all times lay before Grod your wants, your 
deadness, your present incapacity; do so with 
happy trust, for He is able to make of you what 
He will." 

Now in default of any visible friend to advise you 
thus, let me beseech you to give good heed to the 
invitations of the Bible. Pour out your heart before 
Him, who entreats for the confidence that He 
commands. 

Tell Him who loves you so much, how little you 
can yet love. In doing so, I am sure that the irrita- 
tion of finding yourself less pious than those you are 
with will soon subside ; and you may feel that even 
this poverty of spirit doe3 not necessarily lessen your 
hopes of the Kingdom of Heaven, 



SELF-LOVE. 



295 



u Life often seems so dark, 

The heart so cold and void, 
Without love's faintest spark, 

And even faith destroy' d. 
Salvation, found with pain 

Seems far from us to he ; 
Yet these sad hours contain 

A blessing from on high. 

The Lord doth always choose 

His own fit time to bless 
Joy's light He doth diffuse 

After the heart's distress. 
The dew of grace He showers 

On dry hearts in their night ; 
Through dark ways and sad hours 

He leads us to Heaven's light." 

C. J. P. Sputa's Psalter und Harfe. 
" Die diirre ZeiC 

It is not easy to refrain from quoting the whole of 
a hymn so beautiful as this. 

The comfort of unrestrained prayer is not, I 
imagine, sufficiently prized by many, even of those 
whose prayers are habitually persevering and true ; 
but it would make too long a digression from the 
main object of these chapters, if I tried to show you 



296 



SELF-LOVE. 



what a multitude of slight hindrances withhold us 
from the greatest privilege of prayer. 

"I speak," said Guthrie, "with the experience of 
many saints, and I hope according to Scripture, if I 
say there is a communication of the Spirit of God, 
which is sometimes let out to some of His people, 
that is somewhat besides, if not beyond that witness- 
ing of a sonship spoken of before. It is a glorious 
divine manifestation of God unto the soul, shedding 
abroad God's love in the heart : it is a thing better 
felt than spoken of." But it is not until, as he says 
again, "the Lord hath driven thee out of thyself, and 
commended Christ to thy heart above all things, and 
made thee resolve in His strength to wage war with 
every known transgression, and thou art in some 
measure as a weaned child, acquiescing in what He 
doth to thee it is not until then that you can know 
how blessed it is to pray always, and without reserve. 

Perhaps I cannot convey to another mind my idea 
of the sort of prayer here spoken of, without giving 
an example ; I hope it will not be thought irreverent 
to do so. Suppose that in the course of some unin- 



SELF-LOVE. 



297 



teresting day, you come up to your own room, longing 
for any sensation of spiritual life, feeling none. You 
kneel ; if you use a formula of prayer to which your 
lips are accustomed, it is too likely that they only will 
pray, and not your heart "But," you may answer, 
" I must keep to formulas though disinclined, let it 
cost me what yawning effort it may, for otherwise my 
thoughts run out into extravagance, or vain repeti- 
tions about personal emotion." I doubt this being an 
inevitable consequence. I believe that truth in the 
expression of present feeling will at such times keep 
your heart closer to prayer than the best worded form. 

Try whether it will not be so. Look back to the 
things which have touched you nearly since your last 
praying : a slight provocation, it may be, after break- 
fast; — a painful train of thought suggested by a 
casual remark ; try to draw out these impressions 
from vagueness, and represent their accompaniments 
of weakness and fear to Almighty God. Perhaps 
another hour was marked by the sad recital of what 
some one had endured of pain or grief; cannot a 
remembrance of this rouse you to heart-felt thanks- 



298 



SELF-LOVE. 



giving by the force of contrast ? and does pity give 
yon no impulse for intercession ? Then came a dis- 
cussion upon some difficult question, which involved 
the credit or welfare of several other people, — some 
loved, some perhaps not liked, — you spoke eagerly, it 
may be unwisely, and you regret certain harsh things 
that you said, but now you have time to measure 
your want of charity, and to ask for wisdom from the 
All wise ; will you not use the opportunity ? and 
implore Him to give grace to your lips, and counsel 
to all your purposes ? 

"On me dira; mais le moyen de prier lorsqu'on 
est sans cesse obsede du sujet qui nous chagrine et 
qu'on ne peut presque penser a autre chose, ni etre 
touche d' autre chose? Dans ce renversement et ce 
bouleversement de l'ame, pour s'exprimer de la sorte, 
est-on maitre de recueillir son esprit, et est-on maitre 
d'affectionner son cceur? Ah! j'en conviens, et 
telle est notre misere: il y a de ces temps orageux 
ou Ton n'est proprement maitre ni de son esprit 
par rapport a l'attention que demande la pri&re, 
ni de son coeur par rapport a une certaine affection. 



SELF-LOVE. 



299 



Mais prions au moins comme nous le portions : 01 
nous le pouvons toujours, puisqu'au moins nous 
sommes toujours maitres d'aller nous pr&enter devant 
Dieu, et de nous tenir aupr&s de Dieu."* And if we 
do this when it is all we can do, we shall have no 
difficulty in finding subjects for prayer in happier 
times. " Nous dirons & Dieu tout ce que le cceur 
nous dictera: le coeur d&s qu'il est touchy ne tarit 
point; reflexions, affections, resolutions ne lui manque 
point. Eien ne le distrait de son objet, rien ne Ten 
detourne. D'un premier vol et conduit par la grace, 
il s'y porte, il s'y 61&ve, il y demeure £troitement 
attach^. Ne cherchons point d'autre maitre que le 
coeur; nous apprendrons tout a son £cole, s'il est 
plein de l'amour de Dieu."f 

* Bourdaloue. t Ibid. 



300 



SELF-LOVE. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

" These ascetics, these mystics, while conversant with those ele 
ments of religion which throw the human mind off from the path of 
vulgar and ordinary sentiments, had renounced or lost all conscious* 
ness of the genuine motives of the G-ospel, those motives which in 
restoring the equipoise of human nature give a natural flow to the 
strongest affections, even while the mind is carried to the highest 
pitch of excitement. Just in proportion, therefore, as these reli- 
gionists were deeply moved h j religious considerations, they were 
extravagant, unnatural, and artificial, and (it is no paradox) the 
more sincere they were, the less genuine ; the more in earnest and the 
more honest, the more do they excite suspicion. It is always so : 
powerful emotions not harmonised, or not adjusted to the real prin- 
ciples of human nature, produce appearances so nearly resembling 
hypocrisy and fraud, that the individuals are liable to imputations 
which do them wrong." — Isaac Taylor. 

The Bible makes known to us that Christians have a 
privilege still greater than that of free access to the 
throne of grace ; St. Peter speaks of the servants of 
Christ being partakers of the Divine nature. 

I dare not put into words all the hopes of future 
exaltation which this and similar intimations seem 
to justify : but, for our present life, I accept them as 



SELF-LOVE. 



301 



a permission for all Christians to endeavor to think 
and feel in accordance with those declarations of the 
Divine mind which have been already distinctly 
revealed. 

Incomprehensible, and infinitely distant from the 
mind of the creature, as the thoughts of God must 
ever be, there are yet some which He has invited us 
to share, which we should therefore entertain as often 
and as willingly as we can; and these, while they 
raise us from a narrow circle of selfish interests, 
guard us against the exclusive attention to religious 
exercises which has caused so much misery upon 
earth, for they are thoughts of mercy, of delight in 
the happiness of every living thing, of grief when 
by sin or error any part of its well-being is forfeited, 
of wisdom as to the best way of removing evil. 
These thoughts occupy the human mind with present 
and accessible business, and make it impossible to 
indulge in that contemplative style of piety which, 
to the grievous dishonor of the Saviour who took 
upon Him our nature, is sometimes cultivated at the 
expense of humanity. It is a mournful page of human 



802 



SELF-LOVE. 



nature to which. I allude, and one that it would be fal 
! pleasanter to ignore. 

"But seest thou not how far more easy 'tis 
To dream devoutly than to do good deeds ? 
How willingly the most inactive man 
Dreams piously, that (haply at the time 
Himselt not clearly conscious of his aim,) 
He may not feel permitted to do good." 

Lessing's Nathan der Weise. 

In this way religion has been sometimes so terribly 
perverted from its real objects, as to incline one to 
say to those who thus misuse it: "Grardez toutes 
vos pratiques de devotion, j'y consens, et je vous y 
exhorte nieme tres fortement, mais avant que d'etre 
devot, je veux que vous soyez chretien."* 

Now St. Paul having admitted that care how to 
please the Lord was more likely to occupy the un- 
married heart than the married, some women seem 
to think that they have scriptural authority for 
believing that, while this care predominates, they 
may, and probably must, be displeasing to their 
* Bourdaloue, 



SELF-LOVE. 



303 



fellow-creatures. Prone as we all are, from our very 
limited capacities, to exclusiveness of some sort or 
other, this abandonment to pious cares suits the 
weakness as well as the devotion of a woman's 
nature. 

I dare not say that such abandonment is wrong, 
lest I should seem to speak lightly of our chief duty 
— undivided attention to the will of God: but the 
point I dispute is, whether it can be the will of 
God that any one should set aside all thought of 
pleasing, so long as it is written, "Let every one of us 
please his neighbor for his good to edification and 
if I was required to justify my belief, that without 
being in some degree pleasing, no one was likely to 
do much towards edification, I should refer to cer- 
tain facts in human nature for my answer. I would 
point out that when any one attempts to absorb 
herself wholly in the endeavor to please God, she 
can hardly fail to concentrate every thought on the 
self she wishes to sacrifice ; intense egotism, sanctified 
by good intention and firmly based on principle, is 
too often the consequence. And since we are most 



304: 



SELF-LOVE. 



emphatically told, that in doing good to one another 
we have the best and surest means of pleasing God, 
do we not run great risk of failure, if in order to 
secure the end we neglect the means ? 

For example, though the duties of prayer and 
friendly intercourse do not often clash, yet any one 
who is used to pray frequently and fervently will 
recognise the possibility of their doing so, knowing 
that it would be sometimes more agreeable to her 
feelings to break off uninteresting conversation, that 
she might commune with her own heart and be still, 
than to prolong the exercise of her patience by fruit- 
less talking and languid mirth ; for 

"How calm and pleasant is the stillness, 
Where we alone with G-od can be, 
For there the heart with all its fulness, 
In sweetest solitude is free !" 

From the Hannover Kirchen Gesang-Buch, 

But she who searches for the root of things will be 
inclined to suspect that it is communing with her 
own heart, and pondering upon her own feelings, 



SELF-LOVE. 



305 



and not heavenly-mindedness which sometimes makes 
it really pleasanter to pray, than to try to interest 
and soothe the heart of another. And besides the 
indulgence of self-interest, in prayer we are safe from 
the temptations that beset us so closely whilst we 
are in companionship with other people, and there- 
fore it is often more natural than right to turn from 
those whom we were intended to cheer and encourage, 
in order to pray to him who is invisible. 

I once knew a poor man who told his clergyman 
that he would willingly pray for the scolding wife 
from whom he had fled, every day and all day long, 
rather than return home to live with her; and he 
thus acknowledged the feeling all may have known, 
that it is sometimes much easier to speak freely to a 
silent and hidden Creator, than to move and be in 
the presence of a captious, restless, or overbearing 
fellow-creature. 

This preference so natural to those who are uneasy 
with their companions, but happy and calm when 
"alone and single with Omnipresency," is probably 
one of the secret causes for the world's dislike of 



306 SELF-LOVE. 

religious people; and since the world lias so many 
insuperable reasons for its dislike to Christianity, and 
since it is our duty as Christians to do all we can to 
make it honorable and beloved, I think it behoves 
us to keep a strict check upon the unsociable instincts 
of spirituality, and even in our wishes to respect the 
prayer of Christ for His disciples ; seeking not to be 
removed out of the world, but by His power to be 
kept from evil in it. 

A woman whose piety has outrun her wisdom, 
takes, with regard to the world, a very different atti- 
tude from that which I suppose the Bible to recom- 
mend; she not only determines to keep herself 
unspotted from the world's evil, but she will not 
hear of its good ; she thinks she cannot evince anta- 
gonism too marked; she, therefore, glories in eccen- 
tricities of demeanor and conduct. She is leaving 
the pleasures of the world ; she will, therefore, resign 
its sympathy, and ignore its code of opinions. 

She thinks that because she respects the law of 
conscience supremely, she is emancipated from all 
laws of less validity ; she greatly errs so to think, — 



SELF-LOVE 



307 



forgetting that the world, with all its follies and 
crimes, contains the half-Christianised virtues of 
many powerful minds, and is, therefore, famous for 
preserving common sense, and for cherishing that 
peculiar combination of what is both desirable and 
possible, which is seldom to be found in the theories 
of a solitary spirit. 

To be unnecessarily eccentric is to turn away 
from advantages that cannot exist in a range of ideas 
separated from received opinions ; and, while a full 
exercise of the commonest virtues is so rare, I think 
we need little beyond a resolute adherence to what is 
right and wrong in essentials, for proving to ourselves 
and others that we are not of the world, though 
remaining in it ; trying to gain all its teaching can 
afford of practical wisdom, and submitting our selfish- 
ness to the unrelenting discipline of mixed society. 

The bitter tone with which more worldly people 
comment upon the short-comings of those who strive 
to disentangle their hearts from the world, might 
serve as a warning to every one of us ; for it proves 
how anxiously and how keenly they watch for ex- 



308 



SELF-LOVE. 



ternai defects, who cannot perceive the increase of 
grace within. 

They watch, hoping that their own negligent lives 
may prove to be more consistent and more successful 
than the hard-fought battle of the soldiers of Christ. 
And not only are His soldiers narrowly watched by 
those who still refuse to join in the holy warfare, but 
by all of any profession their conduct is scrutinised. 
If our religious zeal appears in any way to shelter 
malice and sloth, to support pride, or lend a decent 
covering to envy, deceitfulness, and spite, all those 
with whom we live will quickly detect the strange 
and shocking incongruity, and they will feel a sus- 
picion of what the satirist has said concerning 

" une bilieuse 
Qui, follement outree en sa severite, 
Baptisant son chagrin clu nom cle piete, 
Dans sa charite fansse, ou 1' amour propre abonde. 
Croit que c'est aimer Dieu que hair tout le monde."* 

Lest, therefore, the faith we profess should suffer 
from the infirmity of its professors, we must keep 

* Boileau. 



SELF-LOVE. 309 

watcli upon our tempers, and be extremely careful 
that our clear perceptions of right and wrong do not 
transpire at times when personal feeling tempts us to 
apply them to the conduct of those about us, with the 
acrimony that is commonly attributed to old maids. 

Let us be silent, and refrain from censure direct or 
indirect, until we are able to discover whether it is 
really necessary to inflict it at all, and, if it is, how it 
can be given with least pain and most benefit to the 
blameworthy parties. 

And for our own relief, if it can be done without 
any neglect of duty to our neighbor, "when the 
coldness, the indifference, the faithlessness, the empty 
promises, the loitering, and delays of other men 
in giving their poor assistance grieves us, let us 
go into the quiet chamber, let us give free course to 
our tears, but not to murmurs and complaints of 
other people, let us weep before God, strengthen 
ourselves with His word, revive ourselves again with 
His promises, and say to Him, ^ Yet am I ever with 
Thee!'" OA 



310 



SELF-LOVE. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



All is best, though we oft doubt, 
"What the unsearchable dispose 
Of Highest Wisdom brings about, 
And ever best found in the close." 

Samson Agonistes, 

Although in the consideration of single life I have 
now and then compared it with the life of married 
women, -it seems to me not quite rational to make 
this comparison in the abstract ; for the peculiarities 
of either condition, which are sufficiently invariable 
to allow generalisation, are few and unimportant 
when weighed against the multiplicity of differences 
that make the lot of each individual an exceptional 
case. Indeed, it is scarcely possible to separate the 
effects of what invariably belongs to married, as 
contrasted with single, life, from the much stronger 
influences of personal character and peculiar circum- 
stances. 



SELF-LOVE. 



311 



It is hardly possible in those states of society 
where the individual mind makes little resistance 
to the pressure of external facts ; it is impossible as 
we ascend in the scale of civilisation; for, among 
those who have put forth their full spiritual strength, 
circumstance loses much of its force ; and, when it ih 
a question of what will produce most happiness, we 
must consider the tone of feeling which external in- 
cidents promote, more than the train of events which 
may necessitate such and such results. Having, how- 
ever, undertaken to disentangle our ideas of an un- 
married gentlewoman's position from the vulgar 
prejudices frequently attached to it, I must assume 
that the states of celibacy and matrimony may be 
flieoreticcrtly compared, and that from the comparison, 
imperfect as it is, we may draw some useful and in- 
teresting conclusions. 

The nominal division in society of married and 
unmarried is depressing to some people, because it 
seems to merge the individuality of each single 
woman in a class almost proverbial for uninteresting 
appearance and acid virtue ; married women being 



312 



SELF-LOVE. 



supposed to find in their doubled store of joys and 
cares an endless variety of interests, and at least a 
permanent freedom from the weariness of a self- 
centred existence. 

Human beings are, no doubt, gregarious in their 
tendencies, but each spirit is too conscious of its own 
originality to be content with class distinctions only ; 
and I suspect that the term " an old maid" has 
become disagreeable and dejecting more from this 
cause than from any other ; it not only recognises a 
generic difference, to the neglect of what is specifi- 
cally characteristic, but it assigns those who, from 
being often comparatively torpid among realities, 
are singularly apt to be anxious about ideals, to a 
portion of society which is generally believed to be 
more within reach of slights, more destitute of advan- 
tages, and more resentful of deprivations, than that 
which accepts the wear and tear of married life, — 
which watches over young children, and directs 
servants, and settles household accounts. 

All the contradicting evidence of daily life is 
insufficient to counteract this popular superstition, and 



SELF-LOVE. 



it fails to do so for a very good reason ; the supersti- 
tion is based upon laws of nature. The exceptions 
which make these laws less recognised than they 
should be, the married life which is more torpid, 
more selfish, more lonely than that of the single 
woman, and the old maidenhood which is more glad 
and active and full of interests than a wife's existence, 
are the result either of a perverted nature, or of a 
social state so artificial, that even those who pro- 
foundly venerate the laws of nature are glad to set 
them aside, in compliance with the more binding law 
of submission to Divine Providence. And while we 
thankfully submit, we need not be distressed because 
for us some of Nature's laws are overruled. The 
highest title ever given to Nature was that of "the 
steward of God," and when we have the direct ex- 
pression of a master's will towards each one of us 
individually, it is unreasonable to regret the conse- 
quent disregard of orders sent in more general terms 
through a servant. 

According to human judgment, it is undoubtedly 
happiest for a good woman to be the wife of a good 



3U 



SELF-LOVE. 



man ; but the conditions requisite for this superlative 
degree of happiness are not easily secured. 

I compare an unmarried woman's notion of the joys 
of married life to the remembrance of a beautiful 
piece of music which sometimes lingers in one's brain ; 
the air that haunts you, how sweetly it runs on in the 
muffled chambers of imagination ! You follow its 
windings there with the greatest ease ; yet if you try 
to play it from notes you find that but a small part of 
its beauty is clear and simple melody, — you discover 
that the harmony is intricate, — the discords many, 
though in due time resolved, — the whole piece very 
difficult. 

It is perhaps fortunate that you have not to make 
the same sort of discovery in the concord of married 
life. But people who are just going to be married do 
often seem very happy, — so joyously occupied, — in 
such a full stream of engrossing interests. They look 
so, and their happiness may indeed be transporting ; 
but lookers-on cannot tlways estimate its attendant 
penalties ; — the hurry and tension of mind, the com- 
plicated dependence upon other people, the misgivings 



SELF-LOVE. SIC 

and fears that beset any great joy ; — all these, if they 
do not embitter happiness, mix with it considerable 
alloy. And, though you think it must be pleasant to 
be the central object of so much interest in every 
adjacent circle, do you also think whether you would 
like, in the course of a few years, to be cited as " that 

poor Mrs. , with her husband always ailing," or 

" herself never able to stir from the sofa : " or to have 
it said of you, M how they ever contrive to get on at 
all with their very small income one cannot guess ; 
no wonder she looks so ill-dressed and pale or to be 
pitied for six little children having the hooping- 
cough at the same time, when you were yourself too 
ill to nurse them, — and without a cook? — common 
occurrences that I mention as mild samples of the 
varied trial which Fate may draw out for you from 
that vast magazine of unpublished experience — mar- 
ried life, without a fault on either side : where faults 
are the source of trouble, the harsh and complaining 
temper: the fastidious desire to have things in a 
better style than means allow; the spoiling of chil- 
dren, rendering them a torment at home and 



316 SELF-LOVE. 

abroad ; all these far worse evils are generally pos- 
sible, and have to be encountered in our considerations 
upon a state which looks so blissful on its sunny side, 
and never can expose its darkest. 

If the imagination of women would busy itself 
nearly as much with the inevitable troubles, as it 
does with the uncertain comforts of matrimony, the 
homes of England would not hide so many aching 
hearts as it is to be feared they now do : there would 
be more peace and less regret among those who once 
dreaded to become old maids. 

No one, I suppose, can think the unhappiness of 
celibacy comparable with the wretchedness of an 
unhappy marriage. From my own observations, I 
should not be inclined to think of unmarried women 
as at all less happy than the married ; and, even when 
they appear to be so, it must not be forgotten that 
where there is no one person bound by sacred vows 
to share the worse as well as the better of a woman's 
lot, it is very natural that complaints and regrets 
should be more widely dispersed, (and so awake more 
general attention,) than they are ever likely to be 



SELF-LOVE. 317 

when one brave individual lias solemnly engaged 
to share the pains 'and pleasures of continuous sym- 
pathy. 

I believe we all think too much of external facts in 
respect of happiness ; though strongly affecting feeling, 
which certainly alters as circumstances alter ; yet by 
no arrangement of circumstance can feelings be go- 
verned or insured. In our hopes and fears, in every 
anticipation, we ought, I am sure, to think more of 
the Omnipotent Being who affects the spirit of man in 
whatever way he will; who, without the need of 
mediate causes, can produce in our hearts strong con- 
fidence, or vivid joy, or inexplicable grief. Did we 
more entirely trust in the power of Grocl, we might 
look forward to life's uncertainties with calmness, 
knowing that as by His will plentiful refreshment 
can be brought out of the most stony rock in our 
journey through the wilderness, so by the same will 
the fruitful land may be made barren, and we may be 
smitten with woe when all around us is smiling in 
unclouded prosperity. 

A lonely old age is sometimes very dreary in. pros- 



318 



SELF-LOVE. 



pect, but it may not appear so to us while passing 
through, it. Future difficulties generally look worse 
than we find them when they become present ; like 
the steep pitch of a hill, at- a distance it looks fright- 
fully precipitous — when we reach the declivity, we 
descend far more gently than we expected ; the fall 
of ground seems gradual as we loiter down; and, 
among many little wayside distractions, we are almost 
insensible of the loss of a blyther air and a wider 
range of view. 

Seeing that many devout minds have doubted 
whether marriage or celibacy is most favorable to 
piety, I think that you who remain single may give 
yourselves the benefit of that doubt, by supposing 
that, as by the orderings of Providence the events of 
your past life have not induced you to marry,* for 
you single ]ife is preferable — for you? 1 soul the cares 

* " Loose as these events seem to hang upon one another, yet 
they are all knit and united together in a firm chain, and the 
highest link of that chain is held and managed by an unerring 
Providence. The chain indeed may wave and shake this way 
and that, but still the hand that holds it is steady, and the eye 
that guides it is infallible.'' — South. 



SELF-LOVE. 319 

and excitements of marriage would have been too 
great a snare : and, since it is from no short-coming, 
no want of particular attention to each, human soul, 
that Divine love fails to fill us with joy, but often 
because our hearts are pre-occupied as well as perverse, 
we may with reason hope for a fuller perception of 
this love, when absorbing affection for a fellow-crea- 
ture no longer prevails. 

And yet, notwithstanding those few passages in the 
Bible which appear to put the unmarried state in 
higher esteem than the condition for which God first 
formed, us, His dissimilar yet agreeing creatures, I 
think we should do wrong to believe this state of 
detachment from earthly love to be decidedly the best 
So to judge seems to me to dishonor the first and 
most general ordinance of our Maker; and, if the con- 
sentient records of history are to be trusted, this 
assumption that single life is in itself holiest and 
best has caused an incalculable amount of misery 
among Christian people during many successive ages. 
In the feebler sex it has occasioned morbid excite- 
ment of a perverted impulse. Instead of a meek 



320 SELF-LOVE. 

submission to the temporary disadvantages of single 
life, and a clear-sighted recognition of its sorrow and 
deprivation, how often has there been among virtuous 
women an attempt to exalt and glorify this separate 
and unfinished life as being holier and more desirable 
in the abstract, as well as in their own particular 
case ! And, by a natural consequence, those instinc- 
tive affections that were placed in our breast for 
human objects have been strained by an incongruous 
application to heavenly ideals ; hence, even in cases 
of eminent piety, the painful admixture of sentimen- 
tality and devotion which it costs calmer-minded 
Christians some effort to distinguish from hypocrisy 
and self-deception. Would it not be better to allow 
that some right feelings must lack their completion, 
some pure desires their scope, rather than to confound 
devout joy and holy confidence with the passionate 
tenderness of a woman's lonely heart ? 

Might she not find joy and comfort and perfect 
sympathy in secret communion with the Redeemer, 
without those fervors of expression which cause, in 
sober minds, a just anxiety with regard to the awful 



SELF-LOVE. 321 

reverence clue to the Deity, and the humble reserve 
befitting sinners not yet separate from evil ? 

It is ill for any heart to determine that its own form 
of trial is most desirable for all people, — as well might 
a lame person believe the use of limbs to be generally 
undesirable, because to himself it is denied, as a woman 
conclude that celibacy was most conducive to spiritual 
advancement, because she herself is not called to mar- 
riage by mutual and strong affection. But this turn 
of thought is not unusual : in lesser affairs, at least, it 
is ridiculously common. How often do secluded peo- 
ple lament that any souls should be subject to the 
snares of much society ! Light-pursed thinkers mourn 
for the moral difficulties under which the affluent 
must labor; minds little given to vivid exercise 
regret that any should be tempted to pride of intellect 
by their joy in the beatitudes of thought : and, though 
we are amused by remarking, on the other hand, that 
those who are much in the world grieve over the dis- 
advantages which seclusion inevitably entails ; that 
the rich are sorry to think how difficult it must be to 
be good, when you are so poor that all about you is 



322 SELF-LOVE. 

shabby; and that very clever people sigh, over the 
weighty impediments with which the stupid must run 
their race; yet our discernment of these common 
delusions is not lasting enough to hold us back from 
the same sort of mistake ; for to make the portion of 
our own souls a measure for the needs and liabilities 
of the human race is a folly few escape. 

Perhaps I shall be told, that while professing to 
remove some prejudices against it, I have really taken 
too gloomy a view of unmarried life. It may be so. 
My observations will cause, I dare say, a good deal of 
laughter among happy spinsters, a good deal of cen- 
sorious animadversion among proud ones ; those who 
laugh most will be the elder women who have 
thoroughly tried the state I describe, and have learned 
that, happy or unhappy, it is their portion for life, and 
that, as such, both wisdom and propriety of feeling 
require them to make the best of it. There are many 
such — let them laugh with full contentment. There 
are many who have chosen single life with deliberate 
preference, and who wonder at the vulgar error of 
supposing that every woman would be happier man- 



SELF-LOVE. 323 

ried, and that every woman lias wished to be so ; such 
an error, they think, could only be excusable in the 
sanguine imagination of men, whose active duties hide 
from them the incessant anxieties that make a woman's 
married life anything but a sinecure. All those who 
feel this surprise will think it absurd enough to receive 
condolence for what they deem worthy of congratula- 
tion ; let them also laugh at me as much as they will : 
but I appeal from these well-fortified spirits to women 
of weaker mould, whose tenderness of heart is uncured 
by time, who feel as they were once expected to feel, 
long after the betrayal of such feeling has become 
obsolete. 

What woman is there among such as these who does 
not mournfully acknowledge the loneliness of her life, 
and the frequent need of some one to lift her up when 
borne down by all the sorrows which oppress her, 
either through sympathy or personal feeling ? 

Bound both by instinct and duty to wait long beside 
the spring-head of every sorrow, women see the earli- 
est portents of grief; they watch its secret growth, 
and to them is entrusted its last bitter confession. The 



324 SELF-LOVE. 

girl wlio looks unconscious of such a thing as grief, 
may charm ; the woman who owns to any ignorance 
of it, gives a bad report of her heart. And as to her 
own experience, it is not woman's glory that she is 
exempt from weakness or from sorrow, but that, suf- 
fering in many ways beyond reach of human sym- 
pathy, she rules the "surging griefs" of her heart, 
and will not allow them to disturb the peace of the 
feeblest creature near her. In so doing, she often finds 
herself fighting single-handed with an almost over- 
whelming succession of despairs. "Cares often 
beleaguer the heart like an army, pain gnaws in every 
nerve, the feelings become sharpened, the clouds that 
lie over the future will not lift, the last ray of light 
disappears ; there lies often the unhappy creature, cut 
off from all human help, and knows not whether to 
think of the present or the past."* And this goes on 
while all is placid externally, for to whom should she 
complain whose saddest feeling is that she is a solitary 
among dearest friends ? But should this be an abid- 
ing conviction, and not, as is usual, one that passes 

* Heinrioh Sandar's Frhauungs-Buch. 



SELF-LOVE. 521 

away with the dark hour that brought it ; if single 

life were indeed as lonely, as sad, and as loveless as 

our morbid fancies sometimes paint it, still it is but this 

life : with respect to our whole existence, when once 

we are proved to be faithful servants of God, how 

inexpressibly unimportant may be the happiness or 

unhappiness of our stay on earth. If we now regret 

that on our fifth or sixth birthday a rainy day made 

it impossible to enjoy the out-of-doors part of our 

birthday amusements, we may hereafter remember 

with a sigh that in this world we were so unfortunate 

as to be unmarried. 

" Eternity, thou art very long ; what is it that 

a soul must a little while be sorrowful and afterwards 

have eternal joy 1" 
21 



826 



SELF-LOVE. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

• As the heart of childhood brings 

Something of eternal joy 
From its own unsounded springs. 

Such as life can scarce destroy ; 
So, remindful of the prime. 

Spirits wandering to and fro 
Rest upon the resting-time 
. In the peace of Long-ago. 

* * * J£ jfr . 

14 On that deep retiring shore 

Frequent pearls of beauty lie, 
"Where the passion waves of yore 

Fiercely beat and mounted high ; 
Sorrows that are sorrows still 

Lose the bitter taste of woe ; 
Nothing's altogether ill 

In the grief of Long-ago." 

R. MONKTON MlLNESL 

Allowing the worst charges against unmarried life 
to be true ; allowing that it is lonely and often burden- 
some, in the yiars when earthly prospects begin to 
fade ; it is impossible for us to deny the consoling 
effects of time. 



SELF-LOVE. 827 
" Tu V alma aequeti, che tant' arse ed alse," 

said an Italian poet, in a sonnet addressed to Time, as 
" il Yincitore delle Passione." How many of us will 
feel tlie same as years go on, each, laying upon the 
mind its freight of varied experience, and reducing to 
perfect submission the will that once strove against 
Omnipotence ! 

We talk of childhood and youth as of sweet seasons 
which cannot return, and are pitiful to ourselves on 
that score ; yet most of us know that they were sweet, 
only as we know that the dawning of a summer day 
was fresh and delicious, while we were lost in uncon- 
sciousness. Youth, and the happy privileges of youth, 
are over; we have before us the less celebrated, but 
no less enjoyable satisfactions of middle age. If we 
believe in them, if we work on patiently in expecta- 
tion of them, they will assuredly be ours. I do not 
pause again upon our increasing means of doing good, 
for though great comfort is derived from them, yet 
enjoyment is not to be looked for as their most natural 
consequence. " The busy hand that would cleanse the 
garden of the Lord from weeds, must expect nothing 



323 SELF-LOVE. 

but pain and wounds from the nettles and tliorns that 
it has to weed out." 

But though a shuddering resentment of recent sor- 
row may disincline you for recurrence to times lately 
passed, I think you will find that memory can now 
bring us 

" fire 

From the fountains of the past, 
To glorify the present ;" 

that its increasing store of associations, and growing 
tenderness for all that lies in the far distance, may now 
be a source of real delight. 

If the life which lies behind us was troubled and 
dark, yet if it was hallowed by sincere religion, it has 
still its own pensive beauty in retrospect ; almost 
every sorrow which has ceased from immediate pres- 
sure is idealised there, and often seems more dear 
than joy, for 

" Thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish 
Xow cause but some mild tears to flow, 

(; And feelings once as strong as passions 
Float softly back — -a faded dream, 



SELF-LOVE. 



323 



Our own sharp griefs, and wild sensations, 
The tale of others' suffering seem.'"* 

Every effort of the mil to strengthen the powers of 
the mind, memory will now repay with abundant 
usury. If we have accustomed ourselves to clearness 
of perception, both in thought and in feeling, the 
images of past times will now stand out distinct and 
bright ; and, as we grow old, we shall find that the 
past can interest us as keenly as any future ever did. 
"We shall turn back to its unalterable scenes as to a 
priceless possession, from which nothing can now 
separate us, so long as the mind is unimpaired. 

" Oh corne grato occorre 
II soTvenir delle passate cose, 
Ancor che triste, e ancor che il pianto duri !" 

And if we look back to what was pleasant years ago, 
we generally find all that surrounded it vivid with 
joy, and brightening to imagined ecstasy. 

Zschokke describes the rejoicing effects of time 
better than I can, when he says : " Every new spring 

* Charlotte Bronte. 



330 



SELF-LOVE. 



that I live here below seems to me yet dearer and 
more beautiful tlian any wliicli has gone before. In 
every new spring the former spring-times of my life 
are again reflected in beautiful remembrance. The 
longer I can see the creations of Jehovah, the more 
my being seems to be expanded." And I am sure 
that this is the feeling of many quiet women, whose 
silvering heads have bowed in past years beneath the 
stroke of affliction. Fortunately for England, we are 
not obliged to trust to conjecture or fancy, when we 
seek for evidence of the happiness of "old maids." 
We must all know too many instances of their useful- 
ness, their constancy, their unwearying and tender 
love, to doubt that they may be very happy. We see 
that to the sublime patience and unfailing loving- 
kindness of some women, no adequate honor could 
be given on earth; but they have the blessings of 
grateful hearts, and the eye of Him that seeth in 
secret is ever upon them, seeing both their toilsome 
service here, and the joy prepared for them in that 
lay when Himself shall reward them openly. 
I do not, however, pretend to expect that the 



SELF-LOVE. 831 

sorrows and the comforts of the holiest woman are 
likely to be allotted to her in the proportions usually 
spoken of in weakly written hymns. I do not sup- 
pose that, because two-thirds of her life have been sad, 
the last portion of it will be marked by triumphant 
felicity ; neither should I expect that, if a season of 
"unmixed happiness is granted to her, she would 
therefore look back to more troubled feelings with 
the astonishment that swells the heart (and the style) 
of the hymn-writer in his concluding verse : for I 
attribute the peace of elderly people in great measure 
to their intimate acquaintance with the hearts that 
may once have threatened to break. I think that a 
sensible old maid knows well how to manage her own 
sorrows; she has learned the lesson so often inculcated 
by Montaigne: "jSTous avons une ame contournable 
en soy mesme ; elle se peult faire compaignie ; elle a 
de quoy assaillir, et de quoy defrendre, de quoy re- 
cevoir et de quoy donner. ISTe craignons pas en cette 
solitude nous croupir d'oysifvete ennuyeuse. . . . 
La plus grande chose clu monde e'est de scavoir estre 
a soy." If, therefore, she has sometimes flagging 



332 SELF-LOVE. 

spirits and disconsolate views of life, slie does not 
waste time in bemoaning herself, but with the thought, 
" It is my own infirmity," she pushes bravely through 
the temporary darkness, and prays for the cheerful- 
ness she cannot just then command. 

If she feels stern and repulsive towards those who 
are happier, she understands the origin of that aching 
sternness too well to hate herself for feeling it, as once 
she was inclined to hate ; she knows that a little flush 
of happiness would suddenly make her as tender and 
indulgent as the softest hearted mother ; that, if she 
liked herself a little better, she would not think noisy 
babies, and cake-seeking boys in turn-down collars, 
so intolerable as they now appear ; she tries ; there- 
fore, to be patient with herself as well as with them. 
And if, in the wearying changefulness of an unsettled 
life, she is now and then tempted to long for some 
anchorage for the heart, — some intensity of feeling 
that might silence the tumult of petty cares, while she 
remembers the wish of Naomi, that her daughters 
might find rest in the house of a husband, she remem- 
bers also that rest is not always found there, and that 



SELF-LOVE. 



even if it was, if the greatest earthly happiness was 
bestowed upon her, it would fail to satisfy. She tells 
herself with quiet assurance — • 

"No well that earth-born fountain fills 
The hot thirst of the spirit stills. 

Be still, rny troubled heart, and know 
Not all things here bear fruit that blow. 
Thou bear" st in thee — earth's silent guest, 
That which in Heaven alone can rest. 
"Which on and on with ceaseless play, 
Urges thee darkly on thy way. 
First movement of the wing it is 
Of butterfly in chrysalis — 
Thy grief, scarce understood by thee, 
Home sickness for eternity." 

Emmanuel Gteibel. 

I may, perhaps, be charged with expecting too much 
support from generalisations ; some unhappy reader, 
glancing over this book, may smile bitterly at the 
bold front offered in theory to the evils of celibacy ; 
she may say: "All this is easily said; your general 
principles look very serviceable on paper, but they 
are inapplicable, because no theoretic advice can 
touch the core of one's worst grief." 



BPji SELF-LOVE. 

I sadly feel tlie force of this objection, yet it is not, 
I think, wholly true : every one, more or less, adapts 
her conduct to general principles ; the poor often 
console themselves with proverbs very imperfectly 
suited to their needs, and the religious will fortify 
their courage with texts that can only be brought to 
bear upon individual cases by a strained interpreta- 
tion ; why, then, should we not believe that theoretic 
prudence may be of use also ? I am convinced that it 
may. But, while saying this, I must also admit that 
there is perhaps less danger to be feared from the 
neglect of theoretic prudence than from its over-estima- 
tion, to which thoughtful people are notoriously 
inclined. Such people are necessarily subject to 
great fluctuations of feeling, for every thinker sees 
both facts and principles in a variety of lights, which 
makes it impossible to regard them with uniform 
feelings, or to act upon them with consistent direct- 
ness ; there is also a momentousness in trifles when 
reflected upon deeply, which throughout life must 
cause a frequent recurrence of hesitations. 

It is often seen that minds of most resource are 



\ 



self-love. a;j5 

most often at fault in times of emergency ; they often 
fail in action beside tliose of far less power, whose 
narrow vision precludes a disturbing variety of pros- 
pects. It happens to these unlucky wise ones as it 
did to the fox in the fable, who had so many strata- 
gems for safety that when danger came he was obliged 
to decide before he acted. Thus the theorising mind 
will try first one motive for action, then another and 
another, hoping to gain from each more powerful 
impulse than can ever be drawn from a principle only 
in occasional exercise; and thus, with accumulated 
means of helping others, such a person will often be 
the most helpless of a community : while, on the 
other hand, one rule, one maxim, one proverb, steadily 
acted upon, will give to inferior minds a weight in 
counsel, and a promptness in action, which command 
respect and almost always insure success, To a 
thoughtful person,- who feels herself in this way par- 
tially disabled by the influence of cross lights, I desire 
to offer a very simple piece of advice. I would fain 
say to her, whenever perplexities begin to impede a 
purpose, there is nothing so useful for you as action ol 



836 SELF-LOVE. 

some sort or other. If you are in a disquieted mood 
from any cause whatever, go and do the least agree- 
able tiling which you have been long wishing or 
intending to do : this will be a tonic to every faculty, 
and refreshment to your heart ; for however much 
the present has power over us, the remembrance of 
what lies undone in the past, from any neglect of duty, 
hangs "upon the soul with dispiriting weight. 

But if you are positively unhappy, then go and do 
what is most agreeable ; for the removal of that un- 
happiness, the relief of your heart, if it is possible, is 
a duty, because it is favorable to the prosecution of all 
other duties. Only, whatever you may be feeling, 
ACT ; and be sure that, so long as you find nothing 
but gloom and perplexity in your thoughts, truth is 
partially hid from them. 

Do not wait to act till you can fix upon some 
action that may seem to you sufficiently important ; 
but take in hand the most trifling tiling that suggests 

O O DO 

itself to your notice, if it will employ, and if it can 
interest, you. 

It is amusing to notice the indigenous dread of 



SELF-LOVE. 337 

mere enjoyment besetting every English, heart that is 
tnxious about duty. We have heard so much of the 
stern claims of duty, that we are apt to look upon 
simple pleasure of any sort with deep suspicion ; and 
yet while the sun shines the fruit ripens best, and 
while little children and young animals play they 
grow and strengthen, and so become fit for their % 
destined purposes. May nothing be gathered by 
analogy from these cheerful facts ? Think what we 
will, shutting out sunshine as an impertinence because 
through blinds or clouds it gives light enough for the 
day's work, or lamenting the heedlessness of little 
ones who still laugh when there is no reason for 
laughter, this is certain, that unless the mind of a 
highly educated Christian is soothed by the pleasures 
of imagination or art, it is almost of necessity an 
unhappy mind ; because every enlargement of know- 
ledge, and every degree of heightened conscientious- 
ness, opens more avenues for the approach of sorrow 
and fear ; and if, with the increased susceptibility of a 
religious mind, we studiously neglect recreation and 
intellectual pursuits, it will be hardly possible to prove 



338 SELF-LOVE. 

to those around us that we have " joy and peace in 
believing." 

Gloom and depression will "be the inevitable relax- 
ation of a high-strung nature, when none else is 
allowed. 

And if it is permissible for a human being to form 
a guess at the reason of any of Grod's dealings with 
men, I may here mention what has often struck me 
with regard to our acknowledged subjection to vanity. 
It seems to me, that, without being subject to vanity, 
the free-willed creature could scarcely endure its 
present probation : for without many distractions 
from minor interests, and much refreshment from the 
lighter parts of our nature, the stress of conscience 
upon every thought, and word, and deed, might sus- 
pend action ; and the tremendous certainties revealed 
to faith so occupy us as to leave no power of mind 
disengaged for carrying on the affairs of this present 
life. It need hardly be said that if this world had 
really as little hold upon us as the dying sometimes 
think it ought to have, more than half our earthly 
occupations would be thrown up ; and while we were 



SELF-LOVE. 339 

incessantly expecting the infinitely superior satisfac* 
tions of another world, the necessities of this would 
not be duly provided for. Apart from the unques- 
tionable wisdom of inspiration, I think that in telling 
us to rejoice in the good things of this life, Solomon's 
advice approves itself to our huamn wisdom more 
than that of some modern teachers. He is certainly 
old-fashioned in his views of life, but so is this human 
nature with which we must get through it ; and, 
though I would cherish the highest aspirations that 
keep within range of human capability, I am really 
afraid of a standard pitched too high for our reach, 
"entre nous, ce sont choses que j'ay toujours veues 
de singulier accord, les opinions supercelestes, et les 
moeurs soubterraines." * 

Pardon this long digression in favor of merely 
pleasant things, but, believe me, they are not trifles ; 
do not leave them out of consideration when you 
design schemes of usefulness. You need not go far 
out of your way to seek little pleasures; many are 
close at hand, quite as accessible, and quite as much 
* Montaigne, 



340 SELF-LOYE. 

neglected, as the hay -fields near home, into which we 
are always meaning to go, and have seldom gone. 

It was when advising immediate action of some 
sort, that I turned aside to vindicate the use of things 
which we call trifles, though they may serve to allay 
impatience, and turn the current of painful thought ; 
such, for instance, as games of skill, fancy-work, and 
sketching from nature, I earnestly beg that you will 
not despise these trifles. 

For positive griefs, from which thought cannot be 
diverted, there is but one remedy. 

" Lift thyself up, oh thou of sadden'd face ! 
Cease from thy sighing, draw from out thy heart 
The joyful light of faith." 

At your age, you should be able to accept, with full 
assurance, any of the certainties of faith; if, there- 
fore, you believe that thousands of the faithful in 
your country pray daily for the relief of the sorrowful 
and weak-hearted, and if you believe also that true 
prayer is both heard and answered, you know that in 
this time of trouble you are prayed for by those 



SELF-LOVE. 



whose effectual, fervent prayers will avail much. If 
you are used to pray for other souls in their days of 
darkness, this" knowledge will be a great consolation 
when you feel too miserable to pray for yourself. 

Is, then, the life of unmarried women so sure to be 
sorrowful, that a book professing to try and meet its 
requirements, must begin and end with consolation ? 
Far be it from us to come to such an ungrounded 
conclusion ? It is a happy life to very many, it may 
be made, at least, very tolerably cheerful to all ; but, 
if you do not find it so now, let me once more remind 
you, that during this short life only have you an 
opportunity of proving that you love Gpd though 
He smites you, and trust in Him though He seems 
regardless of your need. Only here can faith triumph. 

When death comes to end a life of doubtfulness 
and repining, and you then feel that it was mercy 
which loosened every tie to earth, so making you 
glad and thankful to approach the home of pardoned 
spirits, how bitter will be your regrets, your self- 
accusations, your shame, for previously mistrusting 
the infinite love of Grod ! 



342 SELF-LOVE. 

TVe can now but faintly imagine the state of one 
who begins to trust entirely, because the veil is being 
withdrawn, yet surely it will have its anguish. Have 
you ever felt the tide of self-reproach that sets in 
upon the heart when some great proof of a friend's 
distrusted affection has put your doubts to shame? 
Have you known the pang of remorse for having 
waited to be affectionate, grateful, and confiding, till 
the time for showing a noble trust in your friend was 
quite passed by ? 

Such keen remorse as this, in far greater measure, 
is what I suppose we shall all feel, even after a 
humble Christian life, whenever the close of earthly 
trial brings with, it the just expectation of eternal 
glory. 

How may we then long to have again some of our 
unprized, joyless days, in which to prove with warmer 
zeal our love, and loyalty, and entire devotion to the 
Saviour who gives us the victory ! 

If your days are weary and joyless now, look on 
to that day which hastens towards you, when, if you 
are His, He will wipe away all tears. 



SELF-LOVE. 343 

The thanksgivings which you now extort from a 
feeble and dejected heart will not be forgotten in that 
new birthday, and you will then see that in the whole 
course of your pilgrimage on earth, God did not do 
without cause all that he has done in it. 



THE END. 



